Squandered Epiphanies

*

Sunday was one of those rare days when I found myself actually awake well before I needed to be, with more than enough time to get ready for church without rushing about.

Of course, and as these things go, I squandered every damned last extra minute, and found myself still bolting through the door yelping, “wait for me Jesus!” when I realized that I was already supposed to be where I was just now heading off to.

In fact, I was in such a rush that it wasn’t until I was seated, moistened by both a late summer sweat and just a hint of former Roman Catholic guilt – and exactly at the point in the mass wherein we pray for the recently deceased – that I realized something:

Someone wasn’t here today.

Someone who had been here – to my knowledge at any rate – just yesterday.

Not “here” as in the church itself, but “here” as in at all; as the day prior I had gotten word that Someone dear to me and dearer to others still had finally come upon their great reward. It was a Someone that I loved.

Someone that I loved.

And how odd it is that only in their death was I finally able to appreciate that feeling for what it was. Understand it for what it is. Acknowledge it to be true.

Someone I love and now miss is not here today. No, not ever more.

Wish-you-were-here_grande

And, as these epiphanies tend to cluster ‘round a recently illuminated mind, it then also occurred to me in very short order that this sort of thing happens every single day, a million times over. Every single day there are others – many, many others – who simply are no longer here today. Gone. Dust. Legacy. No longer are they a curse nor a blessing . No more are they anything, but what they gave unto us, and what we gave unto them in return.

And as such I wondered, why can’t we be better?

Why can’t we stop hating, judging and fearing?

Why can’t we forgive, and mend, and build anew?

Why can’t we be, and let be?

Why can’t we – well, as one of the greatest rock songs of all time once said – be friends?

Why can’t we let go of the trash in our heads, and use that freed space for great thoughts, and inner peace, and outer love, and for the possible and final realization of the full potential of what those wonderful grey bumpy things bouncing about inside of our heads promise to be when We grow up?

Whenever the fuck we decide to finally grow up…

On a microcosmic level example I suppose, and in an effort to shed even more ever-present R.C. guilt, why can’t I – even though the pain caused by their transgressions was deep, overwhelming, intentional and still being doled out in sporadic venomous rations – forgive my ex-hole enough as to finally stop calling them that? And why can’t I take that forgiveness and apply it to the incorrectly (and sometimes justified) assigned failings of my own good self as well?

For fucks sake, I watched both my dad die miserably years ago, and the ex-hole choosing to live in a similar fashion today. How many examples does it take for me – for any of us, really – to finally learn The Lesson?

Someone I love and will now miss is not here today. No, not ever more. And I never even got to say goodbye. I never did so because in my daily blindness, I never once thought that the time was nigh.

And yeah, I did use the word “nigh” just now so that you’d think that I was some sort of educated writer, but in honesty, I would give up the impression desired if I was granted just one more kiss on Rae’s cheek before she bolted off to her Yahweh.

Honestly, I would.

*

Stumbling back into my office from a quick run to her funeral service today, I was met by a private note amongst friends that two of the very best I have ever been blessed with were themselves blessed just hours before with the birth of their long-awaited twins; twins that I will forever more now call only Luke and Leia, by the way – regardless of their parents chagrin.

In reading the note, especially on the heels of the service I had just attended – one wherein a life was celebrated instead of a death being cursed – I had one last epiphany and saw that Tomorrow was once again here. Another chance to learn, grow, share, enjoy, and maybe – just maybe – build upon the efforts of those who lived yesterday to become just a little bit better tomorrow. For, just as someone isn’t here today, there are two more who have just arrived. “And the ripples of the good will continue to spread in wider circles than the ripples of the selfish, for they travel across much deeper waters.

Sounds good, right?

Someone I love and will now miss is not here today. I would like to be of a mind, and live in a world, where that is a celebration instead of a curse. A world where goodbyes are heard only through all the hellos also being made. A world to come, if We make it so. A world to come, if we decide to be friends.

Dedicated to Rachel Cohen.

Advertisements

Unsatisfied

This mash-up brought to you by Trifecta’s very last one-word challenge, followed by Inspiration Monday‘s prompt. Both of which in turn were inspired by The Replacements, of course…

Picture11-1                                      vw-inmonpromo

The heels clicked smugly against hardwood, to satisfy her feeling victorious.

Never deeming a backward glance required – relishing with blind dispassion his devastation over losing her – as such, she never glimpsed the ball-peen rushing towards her head.

•••

Drowning

Everyday now I am drowning.

From the instant I wake from restless sleep,

Till the moment I surrender to restless sleep.

The air has become pinguid poison, and

Everyday now I am drowning.

•••

Picture11-1

My entry for this week’s Trifecta Writing Challenge.

33 words about a Love Gone Wrong. 

Briefly…

Whether she’s realized it or not, Tori has always been there for me during my darkest hours. Not necessarily doing anything to pull me out of the gloom per say, but there for me none the less.

Similarly, the 100 Word Song family has seen me through some pretty tough times as well. So, when I realized that they had joined forces this week, I decided to come out of my flash fiction song prompt hibernation, and play along.

It’s good to be back 100 Word Songers – I hope you enjoy…

robot-badge

It happened again.

I dreamt of being loved… of being cherished.

Of all the dreams, these are the worst. Of all the nightmares, the frights, these are the ones that cripple my nights.

Unlike reality, in the dream she stayed. She meant it. She didn’t have others.

Unlike reality, there weren’t arguments, nor struggles, nor threats of flight.

Unlike reality, she was still breathing when I awoke.

I awoke to the guards calling my name, ushering me distractedly from general population back into solitary.

They think I’m alone in there, but those damned dreams can follow through.

Those damned dreams always do.

•••

Asleep.

To say I’m becoming obsessed with the Flash In The Pan word prompts is just a touch of an understatement. In addition to the word limit placed upon us by Red, I am also enjoying – well, “enjoying” is most likely not the right word to be used here – the mandate I placed upon myself with these prompts; that being to address topics that I would normally not feel comfortable in doing so with. Crawling much deeper down the well than intended with the prompt of “Come,” as always, I welcome your feedback and constructive criticism…

20130622_121134

Anyway, it’ll be good seeing dad again.

At least I hope too.

Pretty painless, these pills. Still… Didn’t realize they’d make my hand melt like that.

They just sorta walked off, ya know? All of ‘em. Abandoned me. Didn’t need me anymore.

I don’t need me anymore.

I don’t need…

So tired. Tired of being alone, a postscript,

a lie.

Time to go home.

Nice to go home… Or’s it “come home?”

What’s home?

Crap… Slidin’ outta view, everything. Blurring. Coming soon, “The End.” Hehe…

Christ.

Why did I?

Oh damn. Now my whole arm’s melting…

You there dad?

Daddy?

•••

Welcome to “Flash in the Pan”

“Flash in the Pan”

To those of you who read Friday’s post, this is an unintentional “book end” to the daddy motif I started there. As ma is still alive, I was concerned that by using a parent of the “fairer” sex as my character’s sought out post-life guide, I might miss out on some of the emotion I was hoping to evoke with this piece. Then again, should I have failed at even that, I suppose I could always just wrap this whole thing up with a depressing Smiths song as well…

Ela’s Play

I originally wrote the following in response to my dear Ela’s weekly 100 Word photo prompt “PLAY” challenge. I then decided I liked it enough to share with you here as well. 

Please take some time to visit her site, where you will find intellect, soul, wit, and playful word-weaving that becomes even more impressive when you realize that English is her second (or maybe even third or fourth – the girl is insanely intelligent) language. As always, I hope you enjoy.

297018_158787104205766_100002234336891_318071_1779244770_n_large

Daddy…

Why are you shouting so loud daddy?

Mommy’s not deaf, she can hear you, daddy.

Why do you yell at her so, daddy?

Why don’t you stop, and maybe rest awhile daddy?

She didn’t mean what she said daddy.

I’m sure she never wanted to hurt you daddy.

I KNOW she didn’t mean it, daddy, I just do.

I’m sure she still loves you best daddy.

I’m sure she’s only “kissing friends” with him, daddy.

I’m sure she will want you back, one day daddy.

Where are you going daddy?

Can I come too, daddy?

Can I daddy?

Daddy…?

•••

Now to be fair, today’s song did NOT come to mind until well after I had written these 100 words. That being said, I will STIIL be willing to shamelessly make use of it here and now… 

Have You Ever Had It Blue

Another Friday, another Friday Fictioneers (sorry kids, but I can only submit these when the pictures tell me the story, as this week’s did.) As always, I hope you enjoy what today’s muse whispered into my ear…

Copyright -Anelephantcant

Copyright -Anelephantcant

The chain – well, you could hardly call it that, now could you? – Would’ve never been left draped around his neck in days of old. No, back then he was prized, needed, secured.

He remembered the lad who’d rode him, screaming together down blown-out streets to get messages to the front.

God, he loved that boy. So handsome, so gentle, so fast!

The lad had a good eye, failing him only on that day where “Jerry” had hid in the bell tower.

Lying beside his dying love, he wept while his seat slowly absorbed the blood.

A lifetime ago of course, it was now a mere cherished memory as he sat idly – unloved, unneeded, and most decidedly unchained.

•••