Loved to Death

(I wrote this piece a few weeks ago, but somehow lost it on my hard drive…found it, so here goes…)

“If the people we love are stolen from us, the way to have them live on is to never stop loving them. Buildings burn, people die, but real love is forever.” – From The Crow, spoken by Sarah (1994)

“Of all the wonders that I yet have heard,
It seems to me most strange that men should fear;
Seeing that death, a necessary end,
Will come when it will come.” - Shakespeare

I don’t know how many times my wake-up alarms went off this morning. I could probably figure it out if I knew the interval of the alarm between each hit of the snooze button. I know that it was already forty-five minutes beyond the first alarm (the one that is supposed to wake me up) and the time that I finally opened my eyes and told myself that the time to wake was now. I sure didn’t want to, but I did.

The past few days have been ones of little sleep. On Wednesday, I worked a twelve-hour day. It wasn’t such a hard day, really. The first half was spent checking my floors in the 10-story business office building at work. Easy. The second half was spent in the kitchen, preparing a meal of chicken fingers and spicy cubed potatoes for the Wednesday night dinner. Not hard, but tiring work. And if my work day wasn’t long enough, I had been invited to go out afterwards for a while. Even though I felt like a zombie, I went, hung out and even had a frosty beverage or two. Angelo’s wasn’t packed with a crowd like it usually is, but my friends were there, so all was good. I think the last time I was there was St. Patrick’s Day where everyone was going green! There was so much green, that for a moment, I felt like I was at an EPA convention (cue snare drum). Anyway, I saw a friend that I hadn’t seen in a while. It happened to be her birthday and she was celebrating it by listening to a bunch of tipsy folks singing karaoke and drinking some weird Iced Tea supposedly made in Long Island (riiiight). I was really glad to see her again, cause, well…she catches my interest.

Yesterday, I worked nine hours, but before that, I went to my kids’ school to turn in some paperwork for upcoming events at the school. I love my kids’ school. I love the fact that the parents of the children attending there are involved with the daily activities of the school. And I like completing my obligation of mandatory volunteer hours. Too many parents aren’t involved with their kids’ education. Anyway, I have completed my obligation for this year. Whew! After work, I met another friend (interesting too!) at Starbucks for a Happy Hour ½ off frappachino. I’m a sucker for caramel, so I had the biggest one they had. I think I correctly said the name of the size I wanted. At least the server didn’t laugh at me, so I must have said it right. Venti…ven-ti…oh just give me a large! I heard a coffee creamer commercial the other day where the server was asking for the name of the coffee, not “how do you want your coffee”. I found it funny and thought of Starbucks immediately. Whatever they called it, I would have to say it was yummy! After what seemed like only a few minutes (but was really almost an hour and a half), I headed to the East Brainerd ball fields where my son was playing a game.

I am proud of both of my kids. They are both playing ball this summer. I mean, they played last summer, but this is a new league, with new coaches, and they are both a bit better at it than they were last year. I’m not much of a sports fan, but if my kids are playing, you can bet I’ll be there with the giant oversized “#1” Hand, cheering them on, and heckling the other players (LOL…not really). Now if they would only allow me to wear my Dual Beer Mug Hard Hat, then all would be well. My boy made me proud. In tonight’s game, he hit the ball every time he was up to bat. Usually, if he starts out bad, he gets downhearted for the rest of the game, or at least until he makes a hit. But this time he started out strong and stayed strong for the entire game.

I love them. My son just turned 7 and my daughter will be 11 this year. Well worn words and phrases state the obvious. “Time sure flies by”, “They’re getting so big”, and “Cherish every moment”, are ones that, although getting passé and cliché, make me think of how true they are. They won’t be little for long and the things that are reserved for the future are feeling more and more like “now” and less and less like “then”.

I spent some time tonight thinking about my kids. Most of it was looking at pictures of them as infants and toddlers, remembering those days with a mix of sadness and delight. I really cherish the photos of them as babies. Those days seem to fade into oblivion, but with photos and videos to remind me, they can stay fresh in this aging and forgetful mind of mine.

They are asleep for the night. When I look at my sleeping children, I wonder what they’re dreaming about. Surely not about tar balls washing up on sandy beaches from the oil spill in the Gulf and how that catastrophe has drastically damaged the ecosystem for years to come. Nor about how in a land far away from their comfortable home, the Israelis and Palestinians continue to battle an age-old conflict that will never be resolved. I’m sure it isn’t about flooding in Nashville, the violent crackdown on protesters in Thailand, nor how Korea, a country divided, continues the threat of war.

I’m sure they are dreaming happier dreams. My son might be dreaming of hitting the winning home run for his little league team or catching the fly ball that ends a winning game. He might even be dreaming of this certain little girl that is a grade ahead of him at school…and I wouldn’t doubt it; he talks about her all the time. My daughter might be dreaming of riding on the back of a winged dragon, or watching dinosaurs roaming in a strange landscape, or even with her…dreams of a boy, although being her daddy, I hope those dreams are still in the future.

I’m pretty sure their dreams do not involve hatred, evil or death. I know they know what death is. A great-grandmother, pets, and people that they sort of knew have died in their lifetime. They know that the possum in the road is not there because that’s where he fell asleep. The mouse that the cat brings up on the porch isn’t going to go home and tell of the near-miss with a large feline. Death is death; no one or no thing is going to come back, at least not on this earth. Ethereal matters I will not discuss here…He knows where my heart is.

Am I afraid of death? I should say no, but I think yes. I think that we all are afraid of dying, of leaving behind those we love; of not knowing what will happen after the last breath has left our bodies. You can say you are ready for it when you know it is near all you want, but I believe no one is really ever “ready”. Call me selfish, but I love life. I love living. I love being around those that I love. I love myself. I love loving. Am I vain to think that a lot of people would miss me? Is it wrong to think that many lives would be missing something that once made them smile, laugh, get angry, think…that to not have me in their lives ever again would be like they had died as well? I don’t know too many people that would absolutely not be able to continue life with relative normality if I were to disappear. Close family and friends, maybe for a little while. My kids; definitely.

When my sister died, there was one thing that I had wished for, something that even now, I would trade all the good times I was having while she was suffering, all the happiness in my life, all the drugs and alcohol and friends who were only around while a good time was to be had…I would trade all of it for one thing…I wish that we had been closer. I know in the physical sense, it was impossible; I lived in Tennessee while she was in Florida. I wished for mental and spiritual closeness with her that we just didn’t share. I blame it partly on the length of time spent apart, but mostly on my nonchalance, my “don’t give a damn” mentality…I was living my life and apart from my wife (at the time) and kids, everyone else ranked way below the here and now of then. And by the time I realized that there were other things more important than my little bubble of a world, she was gone.

I don’t ever want to have to wish that wish again. I want a close relationship with each and every one of my friends and my family. Even if I don’t know you that close, unless you have harmed me or anyone else that I love, unless you are the absolute incarnation of evil…I love you. Life is too fragile and too short to live in hatred or to be detached from those who care about you, about me, about whomever. In my heart, I know that I don’t hate anyone; I know that I don’t wish harm to come to anyone. I know that I can be inward, shy, reserved, and just plain scared sometimes…afraid of all the “what ifs”, afraid of rejection. I’m working on it…I’m working on it. But I also know that I’m comfortable when the “what ifs” are identified and dealt with. I know that rejection happens. I know that hurt happens. I know that mistakes can be made and sometimes the choices we make affect not only ourselves, but those around us. I’ve made choices that were hard to make. I know that even though outer forces and factions come into play when making a choice, ultimately it is my own decision. Sometimes I even regret the decisions I make. At the time, and even later, I know that the choices are made with the best interest of all involved, and even if they were the “right” choices…regret is often a consequence.

They say that “Death waits for no one”. I say that it can. It can hang around, lurking nearby, just waiting for the perfect time to pounce. Or it can show up one day unannounced. So love deeply those that you love. Let them know by actions and by words just how much you can and do love. Don’t let a chance to show appreciation escape. Love with all of your heart and that love will outlast any temporary stay on this planet. I want those I love to know I love them and always will.

I want to love them to death…