Tag: Love (Page 3 of 14)

If only I had listened…

April 21, 2020 / Tom

Here’s what I can say to those who are protesting public health measures put in place to protect our economy, our people and our community. I say it in love since that is, right now, all I have to offer. No data will convince you. No science will sway you. Perhaps love is the way to your salvation.

Right now, you feel fine. It’s easy to protest things that oppose your ideas of freedom, of capitalism, and of ideology. It’s always easy to adhere to a principle when it’s not being challenged. It’s easy to be strong when you don’t really need to be.

Perhaps soon, your recklessness will catch up with you. You may feel a tickle in your throat or an ache in your body. “It’s no big deal,” you will say to yourself. You may, if you are one who can admit making a mistake, put yourself in quarantine to protect those you love or you may continue your recklessness and ensure those around you that “it’s no big deal.”

Perhaps that cough and ache get worse, and maybe your fever starts to spike. You’ve felt this before, it’s no big deal. You’ve always recovered in the past with some antibiotics and rest. You call your doctor, who says you are showing signs of coronavirus. He says quarantine at home. He tells you that there is no treatment, that antibiotics don’t work with this virus. You’ll just have to ride it out and hope it doesn’t get worse.

And no, there is no test that they can give you. You aren’t sick enough to warrant a test.

That angers you. You have the right to know what you have. Ah, they remind you, this is a serious pandemic, and everything has changed. There are just not nearly enough tests to go around. Sorry, but you aren’t rich enough, famous enough, or athletic enough to warrant being bumped to the front of the line. Athletes, CEOs and celebrities are being tested. You? You’re just an average American who must be near death to be given a test.

Still, you’re the brave one. Invincible, you might believe. It’s all going to be OK.

Then, perhaps, it gets hard to breathe as your fever spikes. You can’t seem to catch your breath. Few things scare people like not being able to breathe, and here you are, the bravery beginning to falter, the invincibility beginning to wane. The feverish chills course through your body as your panic increases. If only you had been smarter…

You miss your family. They are not able to come see you. If you die, you will die alone. There will be no memorial, no chance at good-byes, no final moments you share. Your final moments were spent convincing others of your bravery while convincing yourself of your invincibility. Now, the illusion is gone as you face your own mortality.

If only I had listened…

Have I infected my children? My spouse? My friends? Time will tell if you are the one they point to as a reason for their suffering, their loss, their pain. Perhaps you all will learn a lesson. If it is not too late.

You wonder how you are going to pay for all this care you are receiving. Will your family be bankrupt as a result of your illness? How will they survive if you do not? How will they survive even if you do?

It’s gotten so hard to breathe. The doctors, all bundled up in their protective gear, come to tell you the bad news. You will need a ventilator to live. They will sedate you, put you in a drug-induced coma, so that you don’t gag on the tube they are about to put down your throat. You want to be strong and brave again, but all you can do is look around you. Is this the last thing you will ever see?

I want to touch my children, tell them how much I love them. I want one last kiss with my spouse…

Those things will have to wait, and as you quickly fade asleep you wonder if they’ll ever come.

If only I had listened….

The Threat of Our Lives

March 25, 2020 / Tom

I heard a rumor. I heard we need to be locked inside. Why, I could not tell you, but its what I heard.

I don’t see any threat lurking outside my door. There isn’t a man with a gun or some foreign army dropping from the sky. In fact everything looks still; the stillest I’ve seen things look in my life. I see neighbors helping neighbors. There are couples holding hands and laughing as they walk their dogs down the street. They are laughing and enjoying each other in ways I’ve never noticed. Perhaps the distractions of convenience were the threat everyone is talking about? People certainly seem closer to each other now that they’ve become less distracted. It can’t be that bad.

One can’t help but notice how quiet the streets seem. I look out at the major thoroughfare and notice there aren’t that many cars. I’ve heard from many that the air is cleaner, that fewer cars driving to work and school and for their Sunday drives has cleaned up the air. Perhaps air pollution was the threat everyone is talking about? Certainly the cleaner air is safer for us all. Yeah, that could be it.

Not in my town, however. Someone told me that our air quality is still pretty low. According to what the science says, it has something to do with those fracking sites that dot our neighborhoods and the gasses they put out into our air. Maybe those wells are the threat we all need to run and hide from? Certainly breathing in those gasses can’t be good for any of us. Yeah, maybe that’s it.

An email just arrived from my local supermarket. Apparently they are running short on plastic bags and we all run the risk of not having plastic to put our groceries in. Would I happen to have reusable bags to bring instead? I smile. Of course I do. Maybe now I’ll see a lot less plastic bags floating everywhere I look. Perhaps we will not have those hard-to-recycle-easy-to-find-in-the-ocean bags not killing wildlife in the near future. Maybe those bags where the threat? Could be a possibility.

I have been, as many of my neighbors have been, working from home lately. Seems my employer didn’t really need me at the office. I can do everything right from the place I live, and I can still do it pretty well. Now, imagine if we invested in working remotely wherever possible? I wouldn’t have to drive to work every day. Perhaps that air that has gotten cleaner would stay clean. Maybe there’d be a lot less car accidents. Perhaps our cars would last longer. Maybe, just maybe, we could be a lot more productive and a lot less miserable in traffic? Perhaps outdated work methods are the threat? It’s worth considering.

Someone just told me that the waterways of Venice and many other areas are the cleanest they’ve been in recent history. I’ve heard nature is recovering some lost territory, getting closer to shorelines and coming up rivers they haven’t been in ages. I wonder what kept them away, and what they saw as a threat they needed to quarantine from? I wonder what is different now that rivers and streams and oceans are becoming cleaner. Maybe it’s the same thing that threatens the planet? It has to be worth discussing.

I’ve been going for hikes and trail runs. I stay away from people because, after all, I heard there is a threat out there. I have to keep a distance from others or I can face getting sick and dying. Yet I see more people out in nature than I’m used to. It’s a good thing nature gives us plenty of space to roam so I can still keep a distance and not have to lock myself in a box. I can’t help be amazed at how many people are outside with their families, walking, laughing, enjoying the cleaner air. Amazingly, there seems a lot less trash floating around even with the larger numbers of people. Maybe it’s the lack of trash bags. Or maybe its the fact that people are starting to like things cleaner. One can only hope.

They tell us it is a virus that is the threat to our world. It’s hard to imagine that something I can’t see, or smell, or feel, or taste can be so threatening to the planet. Especially when I see so many good things happening in spite of this virus. Neighbors helping neighbors. Couples holding hands and laughing with their dogs. People out in nature and not trashing her. Waterways getting cleaner. After all, I can see my friendly neighbors and those happy couples. I can smell the cleaner air. I can feel the good intentions of others, and I can taste the cleaner water I drink. Am I really more at risk today than I’ve ever been?

I do know is that people are dying because of this threat. That saddens me just as the death of people from air and water pollution does. I’m saddened by forced quarantines but not more than I am by the voluntary quarantines we’ve been placing ourselves in. I’m saddened by the threat of this virus, but not more saddened than I am by the threat of our trash, our pollution, and the distractions we create from each other. We’ve quarantined ourselves from ourselves, and lost touch with the very thing that makes us unique. Maybe we needed something to teach us what the real threat is and that after this virus subsides, we can put some effort into ending that threat. Perhaps that threat is Us.

If it is a threat to our planet it is certainly a threat to each of us. We are a major part of this wonderful Earth and once we realize that the greatest threat we face is not just an external virus but the virus of our thinking, perhaps we can find a cure and a vaccine for that as well.

I honor the moments of my life of which I have little control. I’ve learned to use those as opportunities to discover the best of myself. I cannot end this virus, or the threat it presents to those I love and those I’ve never met. What I can do, however, is use it as a way to discover something I did not know before and to use that discovery to better my life. That way, if I survive, it will not be a waste of life and loss.

Perhaps in that way the threat is not a threat at all. Perhaps it is just a lesson.

The Great Opportunity Before Us

March 17, 2020 / Tom

I did not sleep well last night. There is so much to worry about and so much to fear that I experienced what has become a rare instance of horribly mindless dread and anxiety. It’s been years since I’ve experienced this.

This morning, I awoke groggy but determined. I meditated on my experience last night, fully realizing that it served no real purpose other than to make me groggy. Something had to change, but what was it?

Me.

We have a choice in these times of adversity, and those choices are a reflection of who we are. Are we the hoarder or the sharer? The chrysalis or the butterfly? The cub or the lion?

Neither is wrong, just a reflection of who we are in the moment.

We have a great opportunity in this adversity we have no choice but to face. We can reconnect with community in an impactful way or we can remain in a secular shell that has little bearing on the day. We can take no more than we need or take resources away from our neighbor. Either way, the choices we make in this moment of adversity will speak candidly of who we are and speak in a way that echoes for some time to come.

I believe the Universe has given us this moment as an opportunity to define, or redefine, who we are. It has given us a chance to reconnect with not only our neighbor but also the grand vision of who we want to be. For me, I’ve been able to reconnect with that part of me that loves other people, who seeks to protect them and help them whenever they ask. I’ve also been able to continue to fan the flames within me that burn for health, life and happiness.

History has not been kind to us lately. In a horribly decisive climate we have been embroiled in battles over character, leadership, and philosophy. Today, however, the challenge must be to overcome such things as a community of humans Being, a community of supportive individuals who neither run from our collective responsibility nor cede the power of individual awareness. Our challenge, in my opinion, is to find our common philosophy and build (or rebuild) our communities based on it.

With that in mind I think it is time for me to focus more on my heart and community than on the issues dividing us. I am, frankly, sick of politics and the way that discussion makes me feel toward many of my neighbors in a time of great challenge. I think it is time for us all just to follow our conscience as a reflection of who we are and stop discussing it.

I have my way and you have yours. My mind is not going to be changed by endless banter and neither is yours. Our ways, whether similar or vastly different, reflect on who we are. I no longer want to argue with you when I know I need to work with you to better our community and sustain ourselves during this moment of adversity.

So I will be snoozing those on social media who seek to argue and be divisive, and that includes political candidates. I am not trying to censor anyone but rather just don’t want the energy-zapping negativity in my space during a time when I need the energy to fulfill my vision. I just can’t argue with you about your choices when I am busy working to fulfill my own.

That is how it is going to be for a while. I will take this moment of challenge as a great opportunity to live, in the way I CHOOSE, and be free enough to allow you to do the same.

Peace, and much love to you.

Be Still, My Friend

March 16, 2020 / Tom

I used to say a mantra before getting off the rig for a fire, rescue training or EMS assignment. That mantra, “I will not let you down” was uttered silently before I left the truck and often during the heat of battle. I’ve based this post on that mantra. Perhaps it will mean something to you as we face this global crisis as one community, the community of man.

Be still, my friend, for I will not let you down. I will face the flames beside you and you will not be forgotten in the inferno. You will be guided through the smoke and we shall cut through the haze together. I was born to be your friend even if I know not your name.

Be still, my friend, and know you are not alone. We shall embrace in the chaos that surrounds us and together bear the uncertainty of where we stand. Though strangers we may be, you are my brother and my sister. I love you though we’ve never met, and would give my life for yours as though I’ve known you forever.

Be still, my friend, and know that together we are strong. We shall share our hunger or our feast, our comfort and our suffering. I shall throw down my flag unless you can share in its glory and I will not pick it up until we both can carry it, together. We are friends beyond all things man has created, and brethren despite our differences.

Be still, my friend, and know we are protected. My strengths shall protect you as yours protect me. Together we wield a shield of love far stronger than the bullets of the fearful. Our time is eternal for we are pure of heart, and we have seen Divinity.

Be still, my friend, and know our lives are our only testament. Live them well, in love and togetherness, with honor and the power of truth in your hearts, and together we shall overcome all things.

With love and truth,

Tom

Some things just are, and they are perfect that way.

February 12, 2020 / Tom

I can’t really remember the day I fell in love with her. Not because I’m uncaring or just ignorant. I can’t remember falling in love with her because I can’t remember ever not being in love with her. It’s like I can’t remember my first breath. I know it happened because, well, here’s another, but I don’t remember it. It’s just always been.

Perhaps love is just something that exists like the soul. In my relationship with the Divine, my current soul is not a separate thing but a separated thing. I am one with a vast sea of divinity who has, in this experience, been separated like a droplet of rain from the ocean. Maybe love is like that. I’ve always loved her, in one form or another, and am blessed to know her again in this life. Just as I’ve known her in the eternity of that sea, not as me, not as her, but as we.

It could be, but I see no point in continually questioning it. Sometimes what is, like our breath, just is and questioning it becomes just a waste of time. Instead, I choose just to enjoy it, to bask in its light, for however long it blesses my existence. I see no point in trying to remember, or seek out, my first breath. Instead, I will just inhale and enjoy the life that breath brings. Then I will exhale and enjoy that too.

Truth is that I don’t really remember the origins of a lot of things. I know they’re there though, and I can enjoy them as freely as someone who saw the first sunrise, or the first wave caress the beach, or the first steps I ever took. It’s just a matter of presence, of enjoying what is despite not knowing much about it, and of trusting that I don’t need to know everything. Some things just are, and they are perfect that way.

Much More Than #24

January 28, 2020 / Tom

Kobe Bryant. A star athlete. A hero to many. A legend.

I don’t want to get into the minutia of hero worship or the frailties of a boy made rich and famous before manhood. There are many challenges we all face as we mature, but few of us have to do so under the spotlight. Even fewer of us have to do so under the intense pressure of performing for wealth and adoration. We make our mistakes and, hopefully, learn from them without much in the way of fanfare or notoriety.

Today, I just want to focus on a Dad and his daughter, a man with a girl he surely loved more than life. That is, after all, what truly matters.

I won’t pretend I can’t imagine what they went through. I believe I can. It makes me sad that such a loss had to happen in such a way. Yet, as I see grief on the faces of fans and athletes, this tragedy allows me to realize that great love exists. It exists even among the famous, the wealthy, the legends.

Because at the core of all the accolades, he was just a Dad with his little girl, a man with his legacy.

Tears

I have often felt waves of sadness roll over me as I contemplate my end. There is no fear of death in me but there is a sense of sadness. I want to experience all of life with those I love, and the thought of missing some of those things saddens me. I don’t want to miss a thing.

My children, if all goes according to plan, will carry on without me. Sometimes, as it so happened with #24, our plans as parents vanish in an instant. That’s the part I can’t, or won’t, imagine. It’s a horror needs to quickly vanish from my mind. I need to die before my children.

That is when the tears come. I think about Kobe, sitting next to his little girl on that helicopter, experiencing the horrible realization that nothing was going according to his plan. Not only was he going to die but so was his child. I can feel his impossible fear fighting his need to comfort his daughter. Waves of desperation poor over me as I sense his need for survival mixing with his desire to protect his baby girl. In my mind he fights his desire to tighten his restraints with his need to undo them just to hold her tightly.

I can hear screams mixing with “I love you”, fear mixing with love, and helplessness mixing with the desire to survive. It is quickly overwhelming.

So that’s where I stop. The intensity of pain mixed with the focus of a Dad’s need to protect his children proves too much. I can’t take it any further. It threatens the idea I have of my own plan, and leaves me realizing just how little control I have. I say a mantra, wipe the tears and shatter my shell, determined to live. I still don’t want to miss a thing and I know, deep inside, that fear does nothing but cause me to miss things.

The Legacy

I’m not a die hard basketball fan. I knew of Kobe because I grew up not far from where he grew up. I knew of him because of his childhood basketball exploits and the controversy he created locally by deciding to jump right from high school into the NBA.

It turns out he knew what he was doing and he trusted his instincts in doing it. Good man.

The death of Kobe Bryant and his daughter, as well as everyone on board that helicopter, comes with a legacy outside of sports legend. It offers us a moment where great numbers of people can reflect on who they are at the same time while mourning the loss of someone they cared about. Hopefully, it also gives us all a chance to reflect on the things we haven’t lost and the opportunities we still have to embrace those things in gratitude.

Kobe Bryant’s death is not just about the loss of a legend. It’s an opportunity for parents to contemplate their own mortality and their own relationship they have with their loved ones, particularly their children. We often miss those opportunities as we swirl in our life’s distractions, but they are vital to experiencing life fully in our moment. Our moment that is so unexpectedly fleeting.

The Love of a Parent

January 16, 2020 / Tom

I get sad sometimes.

I miss my oldest child. Memories flood my mind of her wild curly locks, her diaper swishing in hurried toddler steps. She once fit in the crux of my arm, and now she’s a woman nearly as tall as I am. She’s a powerhouse, and I’m a proud poppa even as I swelter in the wish of wanting her nearby.

I chat with my middle child on the way to school, her life a swirl of priorities I barely remember having. I marvel at her smile and her determination, but mostly I admire her courage in just being who she is. She makes no excuses, offers no apologies, and stands tall as a master of herself.

My youngest spends most of this morning trying to make us laugh. He knows success when his sister smiles. She is stingy with such things, and she makes us work for her reaction. He doesn’t care for her approval, but he does have a need to make the world a happier place. He’s been that way since the day he was born.

Time has been my best friend and my worst enemy.

This sadness is not a typical sadness. It’s a joyful sadness. I am so grateful and happy for what time has given. I’ve held three wonderful children in my arms, watched them grow from seeds to saplings, and marveled as they’ve bloomed in every season. I don’t hold onto their youth as much as I wish it was longer, that I had more time to marvel, to appreciate and to soak it all in. I want more time.

But the sunrise is fleeting and the dawn but a passing moment. I still have the day to enjoy in the appreciation of both.

So my children walk away and I smile, feeling both joy and sadness at the same time. I let them go even as I hold them close and watch them bloom even as I wish they’d stay saplings for just a little while longer. This is the love of a parent.

Thoughts of my Dad

January 10, 2020 / Tom

My Dad and I had a complicated relationship. However, we did little to complicated it. Others, it seemed, sought to make it as complicated as they could..

Despite their best effort, he and I enjoyed a very good relationship. It was one that was all-too-brief.

My mother, a woman with many struggles and problems, kept me from my father after their divorce. I won’t get into details save to say her lies and betrayals caused me to hate him from the time I was around five through much of my adult life. He was, in her delusional description, a horrible man. I thought of him in the most terrible terms for the better part of 30 years.

She’d often tell me how much I was like my father, again in the most terrible terms. I thought I was doomed to a life of suffering all caused by a heredity I could not escape.

It was, however, all a lie. When I was finally told the truth about my father, I couldn’t tell if the lie or the unveiling of that truth was more devastating. It took a some time for me to reconcile the suddenness of the discovering that not only was my father a great guy, but he also suffered greatly in the loss of his children. I had to untangle decades of anger and the hurt of the lie that created it.

Finding Some Truth

Ten years ago I decided to find him. I searched in California first, where I was born. Nothing panned out. Then I learned that he was originally from Philadelphia, and my attention turned more local. Within a couple of days I had found him, and shortly after he came to my home in New Jersey.

It was a glorious meeting and something inside me changed. I suddenly hoped I could be more like him, that I wasn’t cursed by my father’s gene pool. There was so much to learn about my ancestry. We talked about my family medical history. He described the trials and pain he endured in losing his first marriage and his children. I discovered he had fought for us over the course of years but in 1970’s family court he stood little chance.

He also confirmed for me that memories I had of him, memories my mother had dispelled as delusions of a hopeful child, were true. The happy times I remembered spending with him and his parents were confirmed. I found myself saddened deeply that this wonderful and meaningful relationship had been ruined for no reason.

I discovered I had two younger brothers and that my Dad had been married to the same woman for decades. They’d lived in Philadelphia all that time. They were all so very close yet so very far away.

We decided that we would keep in touch, and we did. He helped me in some dark moments of my life, challenged me to rise above my thoughts, and taught me that I was so much like him even as I lived as my own man. I was so much different, yet so much alike, the father I barely knew.

This meeting, plus my work in finding my father, further estranged me from my family. My sister, and it seems the rest of them, were angry that I would want to find him. Apparently, such an effort was insulting to my stepfather and offensive to my sister regardless of why the man who was my father had not been permitted in our lives.

I had no desire to estrange myself from my father to comfort those who had never done much in love, honesty or compassion to comfort anyone but themselves. It seemed to be more than a fair trade.

Final Words

There would be no pursuit of a relationship with my brothers, or their mother. I was happy just getting to know my father on our terms in our time. I didn’t feel that I needed a father, but I loved him. We actually enjoyed being around each other despite our political differences and our long period of estrangement. We clicked, and we could talk for hours.

I have had, to date, no conversations with my brothers.

The last time I saw my father was on his birthday in January, 2019. We met at a diner in Philadelphia and talked over coffee that got cold. He seemed to know many people there, and they all sat and talked with us. It was an enjoyable time.

He told me that he had been to Colorado before on a hunting trip and would really try to get out to visit. I told him he could stay with me, and we could take our time on the trails. He said “What makes you think you’ll need to wait for me?” I replied, “What makes you think I not sensing that I’ll have to run to keep up?”

He had turned 81, still walked for miles every day and went to the gym several times a week. My Dad reminded me that I was “big like my Grandfather but tall like me.” It was hard to believe he was in his eighties. “Movement is key,” he told me. “Stagnation is the death of us all.”

“Don’t worry, Tom,” he continued. “You have good genes on my side of the family. We have longevity.”

I reminded him I had had a stroke a few years before.

“That’s something else you got from me and your Grandfather. Staying power. It takes more than some bad health to keep us down for long.”

I laughed, but I got it.

A Final Call

The last time I spoke to my father was in the Summer of 2019. He called to tell me he had read what I wrote about my Grandfather, and to wish me a happy birthday.

“You nailed your Grandpop to a “tee”,” he said. “That’s the man I knew.”

“Thanks. I didn’t know you read my stuff.”

“All the time. You are a great writer. I enjoy it.”

We talked for a bit, and he told me something I don’t remember ever hearing from a parent.

“I’m proud of you Tom. You’re a good man. I love you, son.”

Today that memory brings me tears. Then, I could only muster a feeble “Thank you. I love you too.” I wasn’t used to hearing that from parents.

His 82nd birthday came on January 4, 2020. I texted him “Happy birthday young man!” He rarely texted back immediately, so I didn’t stress when I didn’t hear back from him that day. He had an old flip phone, and texting wasn’t easy for him. Calling wasn’t easy either for reasons private between the two of us. I expected he would text back or call as soon as he could.

A couple of days went by I had heard nothing. He was an early riser, so I went to bed believing I would hear from him by the time I woke up the next morning.

A Dream Goodbye

That night I had a dream. I don’t remember all of it, but I remember that he and I were walking by a stream in the woods somewhere. I think he was going to teach me how to fly fish, as I remember now we had waders on and were carrying poles with hooks dangling from our silly-looking hats. We shared a love of the outdoors, and we talked as we slowly walked along the trail. I don’t remember anything that was said but one word. One word that woke me from my sleep.

“Tommy.” He said it so clearly. It wasn’t loud. Rather it was like a crystal-clear whisper right into my ear.

I looked around in the darkness, half expecting to see him. That’s how clear his voice was to me. It was 5:14 am.

I grabbed my phone to check my texts. Still nothing. I went straight to Google and typed in my father’s name.

There, I found his obituary.

Sadness hit me like a truck. In the fractured way we lived our lives as father and son I was not there to say goodbye.

He did, though, say goodbye to me. I felt the dream I had was his way of saying “Goodbye, but not really.” We’d still walk the trails together and maybe even fly fish together someday. He no longer had anything holding him back and, for some reason, he knew I’d understand that.

Thoughts

I have daily thoughts about my Dad since our reunion. Happy thoughts. There were limitations to honor, yet I consider meeting him and our brief time together as some of the best moments of my life. I got to honor him, know him, and see him for the man he truly was. In turn, I was able to understand myself and know me through the eyes of someone more like me than not. Years of pain were erased from my life.

We were imperfect men who met each other on unusual terms and made the most of our remaining time. Men who understood each other as two closely related human beings who were together not because we had to be but because we wanted to be. We finally had a choice, and we made it, together respecting each other’s boundaries.

I understood that those who had hidden the truth were angry with me for pursuing it. They can go fuck themselves.

I know that those who cannot understand the importance of a son knowing his father don’t understand my need to know my own. They seem to have been hurt in my undertaking. I don’t apologize, not even for a second. Their not understanding me is none of my concern.

I am grateful that before my father passed I got a few years with him. Those years uncovered a truth and burned the box of lies I was given to ash. I got to see my smile in his, hear stories about his childhood and get to know our ancestry through his eyes. When we sat together I grew to understand that we sat as two men hurt by the delusion and poor character of others but who had decided that would not be enough to defeat us.

Mostly what I got from my Dad was an understanding of our potential. Despite all that had forced us apart we were there, talking and sharing. There was something wonderful between us, and there always would be. It is something I will carry with me for the rest of my days.

I didn’t get to enjoy a lifetime of memories with my father. What I did get was a lifetime of healing. In him I had found a man who understood me and who would not lie to me to make life prettier than it was. I trusted him to tell me the truth even if that truth did not paint him with the prettiest colors. He never violated that trust.

Today, I am proud to say I am my Dad’s son and to say “Goodbye, but not really.”

Goodbye to my Father

January 9, 2020 / Tom

People around us can be so shallow
Hollow, absent a core.
Guided by fear, lost to the voices of their own discontent.

Yet time and truth brought us together,
Our time. Our truth. Not theirs.
We shared laughs scattered between decades.
You challenged me to break the cycle.
I accepted.
You told me things that showed me who I was.
A child of living,
Your son in this life,
Different yet the same somehow.

I heard a whisper in my heart this morning,
And I knew that you were gone.
I am so saddened by your passing,
Of the lost time, the insanity that put a valley between us.
I will miss not knowing more of you.

I accept the sword,
As I am now the oldest generation of my birth,
Free to do it differently,
Your first born was not made to be like them.
You gave life to a fighter, a warrior of light and truth,
Honor and character birthed from the fires of my own destruction.
As you said, it’s my time to change everything.

The tears I shed this morning are for you and I,
For us,
Father and son, son and father,
The tears, our Holy Ghost.
The laughs our sacred memory.
Sadness will not be the legacy we share.
Defeat not an option to our undertaking.

Goodbye my father, I will see you often on the road that lies ahead.

Random Thoughts

January 7, 2020 / Tom

Today, a moment in time.

Tomorrow is just a dream.

Yesterday only happened in my mind.

Today is yesterday’s tomorrow and tomorrow’s yesterday. Yesterday, today was just a dream. Tomorrow, today will have happened only in my mind. I realized just now I need to stop wasting time thinking about such things. Today is too important to squander, tomorrow never comes and yesterday cannot be changed.

Cliches…ugh. Sometimes I can’t see the forest for the trees (see what I did there?).

I want to hug you. I feel you beside me but when I turn to touch you my fingertips find only dust. Perhaps this is my mind playing tricks on me, tormenting me for wanting something beyond my control, or teaching me to let go of wants and replace them with reality. What I want is out there, what I have is right beside me.

Now, how to make what I want all that is right here.

Dammit. I’m back to yesterday.

So much I would change. Not because I want to change yesterday but because I want to change today. I wish things were different. I wish life was easier and that I was aware of the luster in the treasures I had found.

Actually, I wouldn’t change a thing. I’ve been blessed with the wisdom of a wild experience and know I can rise above just about any challenge thrown my way. Life does not become easier in the absence of challenge. It becomes easier in surviving them.

Thinking about yesterday creates such confusion. That confusion, however, guides us to a clarity of truth.

There is nothing like knowing someone who is the beautiful mixture of heart, soul and humanness. It’s even better when you love that someone and you get to quickly forgive their imperfections because of how fucking perfect they are. They toil, they quake and they are afraid but mostly they are loving, supportive and more courageous than they will ever likely know.

Treasure those moments when you can just sit back and watch. Those tears clouding your eyes and the joy in your heart are often all you ever will need to know about life. It’s not pride you feel in those moments of clarity; it’s pure admiration.

Use your imagination for a moment.

Imagine you are watching TV. Who do you want next to you keeping you warm? Where are you? That’s the person you should be with and that is the place you should be sharing.

I wrote an entire chapter to my new book while in the shower this morning. I love when that happens, and it’s even better when I finally have the chance to write it down. Someday.