#how i knew i had colon cancer | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gumballavocadoharry · 3 months ago

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I won't cry for yesterday (part 1); Jack Chambers:

*Mentions of death, grief, troubled relationships, dysfunctional family units, mental, emotional, physical abuse, PTSD, violence, abusive relationships, overprotective parenting, deep angst, poor self image, attachment issues, marriage problems....etc..*

Jack would always remember that one winter in December. In fact, he knew he'd never forget it that one winter's day, when San Deigo weather held this polite chill in the air, but nothing more than just a thin jacket and maybe more bulky jeans than the summer and spring ones that were stored in the closet somewhere. A quiet early evening that smelled of a husky cigar smoke- not from Jack, but from when Dean was there only a few hours earlier, sitting on the couch, legs crossed talking about what their winter break plans where for the upcoming Christmas and the looming New Year's.

Jack could almost taste how that ham tasted that day. Rich, ripe and pure; fresh from the market, Alice took excellent pride in how she cooked it- simmering it just right for it to be tender- fall off the bone type like ribs, but stern enough for a squishy clean chew.

A letter had arrived around four that day. Jack only getting to it around six, once he returned home from the store. Alice placed it neatly on the table for when Jack would arrive and see that it still neat- unopened and crisp, like how a letter should be.

But something about this letter was different. It held a more mysterious linger than a bill or a empty advertisement for nothing. Opening it with shaky hands, Jack grasped the letter and read carefully through each line.

Dear Jack,

This is your mother, Lucy. I have to inform you that your father is very sick. He's been dignoised with stage four colon cancer and he doesn't have much time. Please come visit to say goodbye if you can. David really wants to see you one last time.

Sincerely,

Lucy.

Jack held the letter, carefully re-reading it, over and over, until he finally made contact with the address. The same New York hell shack he was forced to call home until age twenty. Licking his lips, Jack set the letter aside and thought for a moment. Should I? Rang through his mind like church bells. Sitting on the surface of his brain before mellowing into the depths of it, Jack felt lost. David, his father; father and son had a complicated history with each other and to pretend as if it still didn't exist or that the pain didn't live on inside of Jack- nesting its own little home inside of the corners of his mind- something he hated the most about his brain.

Jack swallowed hard, like he was forced to ingest a nasty liquid splashing over the back of his throat. Getting up, he met with the little liqour cabinet, pouring himself a scotch before taking it upstairs with him. Giving one last look to the card, Jack shook his head slightly before going upstairs. Somehow, he already made his decision. Besides....David was miles away in New York city and Jack was settled here in California. He would never make it in time....and he never thought to try.

*********************************************

"Alice," she stood at the stove flipping eggs and sasuages in the pan. "Yes?"

"The letter that came in the mail for me the other day.... it was... it was from my mother." Alice turned around. Dead in her tracks, spatula frozen mid air in her hand. "Lucy?"

"Yeah...."

"How did she find...... why did she send that letter?" Jack raised his brows a bit. "My father.... he's dying. He had colon cancer- last stages.... she wanted me to come to New York to say goodbye to him." Alice stared at Jack before he looked up at her, meeting her concerned eyes.

"I don't know if I can..." Alice swallowed. "I know.. it's.... well.... not something that was expected. At all." She set the spatula down, turned the knob of the stove- simmering down the flames- and sat across from Jack at the table. Placing a hand over his, she looked at him with her sweet cat eyes. "I know David was never the best father... at all. But... whatever you decide... I'll support you." Kissing his thumb, Alice turned and went back to the stove, finishing up breakfast. Jack stayed at the table, eyes locked on the placemat in front of him. Biting his lip, Jack finally let his mind wander in the direction he wouldn't let it go in last night.

He didn't want to say goodbye to David. He could never make up for everything he's done to Jack. Maybe he even deserved to die in the first place. Shallow. Jack felt shallow for thinking up such a thing. But nothing else could be truer than how he felt about that. Taking a sip of his freshly poured coffee, Jack let himself settle into contentment.

Until later the next morning. The newspaper was thrown on their front steps. Jack held it- like every morning- scanning for the latest news when he saw the obituary of David Chambers in the left corner. His stomach knotted. His palms begin to sweat and his breath sped up before laboring down into small shaky gasps. Jack expected this. He knew David was going to die. A jubilant feeling warmed around him, like a knot in a rope that's been pulled to the breaking point, had finally ripped and come undone all on its own. A weight slowly fell from Jack's shoulders and a small smile crept over his face. Jack kicked himself- he should've felt sad and angry. Sad because he lost his father, angry because he didn't say goodbye. But he didn't. Not in that moment, like how it's usually planned.

In fact, Jack felt anything but love for David- even in the ounces. The chickering echo: "He deserved to die," rang through his head like bullets. Jack couldn't muster up the words to speak them out loud to anyone or even himself; only inside his head where they were safe to say. They would be stapled with memories of David's angry words, his hard slaps and his riveting stares that steamed hatred -at least to Jack- from his eyes. Sitting back in his chair, Jack tossed the newspaper to Alice's side of the table. Coming to her chair with a coffee in her hand, she stopped, read what Jack had wanted her to read and she looked up at him with sorrowful eyes. "I'm so sorry, Jack." She pressed a kiss to his temple, rubbing her cheek against his head, before sitting back to the table.

He took a deep breath in. "Knowing my parents, the funeral's going to be held in New York...." Alice looked into Jack's eyes. "I think we should go." Alice sucked in her bottom lip. "Are you sure.... I mean... can you... handle that?" Her voice lighter on the last words. Jack cleared his throat. "Yes... He was my father... and I should at least pay my respects to him and then go."

Alice soothed over Jack's hand with hers. "Susan and Roger...." Jack stiffened. "We have to tell them." Jack nodded. Alice looked at Jack- ushering Jack towards the phone. "Why don't you call Ro-"

"Susan will pick up.... she'll tell Roger." Alice sat back in her chair, watching Jack take rigid steps towards the phone. Dialing each number of Susan's San Francisco number, hoping she'll pick up. He didn't dread for Sean to pick up... only he needed Susan, his baby girl to wave her voice into him for comfort. "Hello?" Susan's voice. A sigh of relief fell over Jack for a quick moment. "Hello, Susan? It's Dad..."

"Dad? Hi. What's going on?"

"Well..... your grandfather, David... he passed away and... I needed to tell you in case you wanted to come to the funeral. It'll be in New York."

"Sure. Thanks for telling me... what about Roger does he know?"

Jack swallowed harshly. A piercing snap ran through his chest like a dagger. "No... I was wondering if you could call him- Seattle numbers are hard to reach sometimes...."

"Sure... of course. I'll tell him right now."

"Thank you." It came out more broken than how Jack thought it would sound. A splash of shame soured his cheeks.

Hanging up, Jack hoped Roger would come. He might. He might not. Biting his tounge, Jack's breath became hollow and heavy like he was inhailing sand and water. Susan was his good girl though. After living in Pasadena for all of her twenties, she and Sean moved up to San Francisco. Jack knew it to be a cozy, yet entergetic place to nest a nurturing home for a family. The bright city scene with a mellowing linger of suburbia, all bottled into Susan and Sean's new townhome. Jack and Alice had visited the place- big spacy living room, four bedrooms, finished attic, big fluttery kitchen, finished basement and then another basement underneath that looked like any other basement, big backyard, back porch, garage... everything Susan and Sean wanted. "Perfect for a family!" Susan cheered, sharing a cup of tea in the kitchen with Alice. Jack and Sean sat in the couple's bedroom, talking about how he was going to fix up the finished basement. Jack listened. Letting the words enter into his mind, a sudden flash of their family hit him. He thought of himself, Alice, Susan and Roger, when they were younger. All together, living under the same roof. Jack missed those family game nights, the funny dinner chatters where all they talked about sometimes was how wacky their day could get. The bedtime stories he used to read to the children before their bedtimes.... all of it.

And Jack wanted that back again in someway.

At thirty two, Jack wondered when Susan and Sean would make that annoucement. A grandchild would enter the Chambers family- swooning Jack off the distraction of losing one child and gaining another in some way. But... he could never replace Roger. He didn't want to. He loved him- always has. It was just that things didn't turn out the way he'd hoped for the two of them. Although, prideful- holding himself unaccountable for the everything that happened, deep down... he knew it was a lie. A lie he told to himself.

Going back to the table, Jack poured himself a cup of coffee with a hint of vodka in it and then went upstairs to the bedroom for some alone time. Alice only watched as the last of her husband's foot disappeared up the staircase.

*********************************************

The plane ride seemed dreary. All Jack could think about was the last glance he gave to the house; dark and shabby like it drenched. Everything Jack seemed to see held this drab gloomyness to it. He looked over to Alice who sat next to him, head leaning against his arm as she slept peacefully. Jack found it reassuring in some way. Like Alice wasn't facing the same internal demons he was, and she was peaceful and worry free from the simmering piteous mind boggle he was swirling inside of. Jack looked outside the window, watching the sunny skies of home turn to drab gray tints with skyscrapers poking into them like needles.

Memories flooded his brain- some good, some bad, some really bad. Jack could remember the fuggy smell of the city. The alleys that were dark- dangerous. One thing Jack could appreciate was his father- Brooklyn's best detective- warning him to never travel down an alley way. "This ain't London, Jack. Don't you go walking down no alley way- they'll shank you, boy." He said, one evening during dinner. Jack recalled how his friend, Thomas, was explaining the different shortcuts in the city and how they weren't marked because then they wouldn't be secrets anymore. "Ya know how many bodies I would find in an alley, boy? I catch you down there, I'll lick ya!" Tough to swallow, but resonable as Jack knew how risky alleys were.

The plane landed, jolting Alice awake and burning a fear ridden feeling through Jack's gut. He thought of the funeral and everyone that would be there. He thought of Susan, clinging her arm into Sean's, looking at the open casket of David. Then Roger, staring through the walls, only glancing at the casket while Jack would be glancing between him and his dead father. Alice would be silent, Lucy would crying and the whole place would stiff and chafed. Not that funerals were supposed to be joyfull. But then tension that sizzled through David's lifeline would no doubt mark his return to grave, one way or another.

Grabbing their suitcases, Jack and Alice made it out of the airport and to their cab. Their hotel was comfortable. Big cozy warm bed, nice heating- sheltering them from the icy Brooklyn rain and the picture window that stared out to the big wide city that surrounded them. Jack still loved the city. He still remembered the way his first Brooklyn apartment still lived in him somehow. The Caldar townhouses- cozy living room, little bedroom, the kitchen and nook that hung over to the side from the living room, tucked away in a small corner where it carried a small awning over the nook. His first apartment; the brick building still stood tall- updated and painted a white replacing the cream and yellow tinted walls.

Alice took in a deep breath. "I could stay here for the rest of the trip." She plopped on the bed, kicking her flats off. Alice sighed, staring up at the celling, counting the little spot decor overhead. She didn't want to, but she knew she had to say something to Jack. "Honey.... what about Lucy?"

"What about her?"

"We have to go see how she's doing and if she needs help with the funeral." Jack pursed his lips. "Yeah... yeah, you're right...." Alice sat up and rubbed Jack's back. "I'll be right there with you." Leaning her head against his back, a wave of comfort came over him. Jack always held in this pent up tight knitted feeling of guarding; needing to handle everything himself, while still keeping a tight grip over himself to not fall into the traps of his mother's woes, and his father's wrath. A young Jack could remember the biggest annoucment he made: moving out from his parents home, as his friends pulled his furniture from his room. Jack could remember the scowl across David's face- chanting how 'ungrateful' he was, while listening to his mother's sobs. Jack didn't feel too bad though. Still wheeling the relief he needed to feel from escaping the walls of his gray home. Jack could especially remember David and his yelling. The anger he felt from Jack finally breaking free from his uncontrolled circumstances- the deep hatred that festered inside of him from Jack standing up to him, like he did all his life even as a small child. The last to final time Jack would look David in the eyes and reject him from every part of himself and his life.

Jack ignored David's fury. He would glance at him, while David would stare angrily into his eyes. Jack focused himself on the movers and the new apartment he was aching to move into; how crisp the smell of a new home would smell, how safe the corners of his bedroom would feel, the closet would store clothes. Only clothes and no corners for teddy bears or brand new records that needed to be salvaged. Leaving the home, as he stepped off the front porch and walked through the little pathway from the porch to the driveway, Jack had felt like he set fire to the house. Striking a match, pouring gasoline over everything, and then throwing the lit match and watching the spark burn into blazing flames.

Around the corner, the porcelain home of the Jenn's- corner neighbors of the Chambers- was set fire to. Jack knew the middle child of the Jenn's. Grover Jenn- the forgotten, yet tortured child of the family. He was always quiet and reserved, but Jack didn't expect the lad to be as hawkish as he was that one summer. Complaining over never having a say in his life- his siblings were always given le-way, where he was always condemed as a 'troublemaker' despite never having any known acts of being a nusiance. Rumors spread that the last straw was when Mr. Jenn, was going to boot Grover down to military school. Grover argued it was because he wasn't wanted, but it was quickly dismissed. Something snapped- Grover knew how much his father loved the home he payed for with his bare hands of hard work and patience. Counting down the days to when he was to ship off the school, around the same time, Mr. Jenn was finishing up the last check that he would send into the bank.

From all the pent up years of anger and desperation for a better chance; Mr. Jenn had sold Grover's toys and teddy bears after age twelve, because ' a boy shouldn't have baby toys if he was to become a man.' Grover knew it was just his father's personal preference, but was still forced to stifle down the pain he felt from his favorite childhood bunny being compacted or creamated somewhere in a trash yard. Then when Grover rebelled over the typical slicked back haircuts the boys were supposed to wear all the time. Growing his hair out down to his shoulder, Mr. Jenn shaved it into a buzzcut to teach him a lesson of 'obedience.'

But it was that same year, when Grover had been secretly planning on moving down to Nebraska for factory job that would earn him twice the salary than a factory that Brooklyn could ever supply. Mr. Jenn was bothered from this- worried that Grover would never be able to handle himself alone without supervision from his 'superiors.' Moreso... his parents.... his father. Jack never understood why Mr. Jenn thought military school would help Grover, until he realized that it was only a city away and the parents could check up on Grover until he was officially eighteen, something Mr. Jenn dreaded. Everytime Grover mentioned his eighteenth coming up, Mr. Jenn would just brush it off and change the subject.

So, Grover finally did it. Grabbing a jug of gasoline, and dousing the family home- inside and out- before lighting a match and setting the whole house ablaze. The family escaped with first degree burns- as Grover hoped. But their home was gone. Everything that Mr. Jenn had worked so hard for, had burned down into a little ashes. Everyone expected Mr. Jenn to be furious and hellbent on finding Grover to lock him up and throw away the key. But he wasn't. Instead he just sobbed into his hands, confused to where Grover was, but understood why his home had bee burned down. Jack understood- he understood the flame that was slowly ticking and burning inside of Grover- like himself- had finally exploded. Jack set fire to his home, the day he left. Grover actually set fire to his home, and ran away- changing his name and everything about what his past was.

"I always hated my name anyway." He said to Jack one day in the school corridors. Jack felt this shiver up his spine. A sugary type spike of excitement- admiring Grover to some extent that he had the guts to do what his bagged up anger had made him do.

And despite the smoke filled air that morning, Jack would always think of it like a breath of fresh air. That him and Grover were finally free and their lives would be forever changed by their own liberation of igniting the flames and burning it down to the ashes of their pain.

*************************************************

"Jack!" Lucy greeted, throwing her arms around his neck and hugging him tightly. Jack felt uncomfortable, eyes glancing towards Alice, who stood awkwardly trying to make sense of exactly what Lucy's game was. Jack pressed a tight and stern smile together, before gently pulling out of his mother's arms. "Jack...." Lucy looked into his eyes. She stiffened herself- seeing everything she saw in them, the day he left. Jack's eyes were still bold; green and sharp like they were even as a young man. The strenth never left them.... and Lucy couldn't ignore it.

"I'm sorry I couldn't be there when.... you know.... Dad died." Jack bit his lip a bit, not knowing if he said the right thing. "It's okay, baby... he was in bad shape anyway." Lucy turned to Alice and pursed her lips before smiling tightly. "Would you like some tea, dear?" Alice smiled, glancing towards Jack, who gave a slight nod. "That would be nice, thank you." Lucy excused herself to the kitchen, waiting for Jack to follow her. Alice made herself comfy on the couch, fiddling with the edges of her blouse.

"David.... he really wanted you to be there." Lucy poured the water into the tea pot, placing a tea bag inside. Jack swallowed. "I know..... he probably did... maybe."

Lucy turned to Jack. "Of course he did.... you're his only son... he needed you, Jack. Oh... he was heartbroken while we waited and waited, hoping for at least a phone call to tell us that maybe you were-"

"It was so sudden," Jack interrupted. "Two days ago, I recieved your letter about Dad... and I was still taking time to reel from that too."

"I know Jack, but...." Lucy sighed, setting the spoon down and turning to him. "He was holding out for you, until... he just couldn't anymore."

"What do you mean?"

"Well.... David... wanted to stay alive to see you.... but you didn't come.... and I guess he just died from that."

"Died from that? Me not being there? What about his cancer- the actutal reason he died?"

"Oh, Jack don't start." Jack sighed. "Fine. I won't." Going back into the living room, Jack sat next to Alice and squeezed her knee. Alice knew. He didn't need to say a word.... she knew.

"Tea's here!" Lucy set the tray down on the mantel. "So," sitting back on the couch, "what are the next steps?"

Jack cleared his throat. "Well.... we were going to help with the funeral.... in fact... I called the children and told them about what happened, and they're coming down later for the funeral."

"Oh, how nice of you to do that, Jack. It's nice to be around family, especially during times like these." Jack raised an eyebrow, flattening his smile. Lucy scanned Alice up and down, trying not to make eye contact with her. But she couldn't ignore how navy blue blouse hugged her curves or how her eyes held this ginger in them. It was always this way from the moment she met Alice.

Beyond the traces of her seemingly perfect body, there was her smile, her laugh, they sweet way Jack looked at her; admiring her with everything she did. Wrapping his arm around her shoulders, while they stood together and Jack was explaining how much he loved this woman. Or like Jack's hand was still over Alice's knee as a this gentle reminder of how much he needed her and vise versa. Put together without all the fluff of fantasy, Alice held this light everywhere she went. And Lucy wanted it to be hers.

****************************************************

It was in the spring, shortly after Jack's engagement to Alice when Lucy and David had first met her. David gawked at her- like he did with every other woman- but neverminded her. Lucy just stared- not too noticeable- she couldn't stop herself from looking at the bombshell blonde. Full of life and lust- zest for the invitation of marriage towards her so, that truly loved from the start. Alice was valiant; grabbing Lucy's hand and shaking it while wearing this big smile underlined by her cherry red lips. That's when Lucy noticed her eyes. Rich and colorful- life lived through them- inside of them, holding this light inside of herself like she was something more than what Lucy had envisioned her to be.

A hard smack of reality spat back at Lucy a second time once she realized that Jack didn't fufill the unknown understanding that his mother wanted him to. A dainty woman with a shy, but humble etiquette about her. Lucy would have no hassle showing her the ropes of what being a wife- a woman would be about. She would be able to take the ropes and tug on them without a fight, and the woman would be grateful. She would let Lucy steer her into whichever corner she would need to be in, to be set and ready made for Jack.... for his family- all of the Chambers.

Lucy wanted her to be like a daughter to her. She wanted her love her like a mother and be a willing participant Lucy being exactly that, only she would still be different. Lucy was Jack's mother and the woman would be his wife. Lucy, her long complex history with her child would leave no doubts or competition for which role would be the best for Jack. And the wife would understand.... she was the second woman in his life. But strictly because he found her secondly.

Alice, was Jack's world. Fearless, polite, yet solid in her stances and dense in her womanhood. She needed no leader, she was her own guide. She was perfect for Jack. Lucy's history with Jack was already complicated- enough to where he didn't choose for Alice to meet his parents; showing them off like they were to be these trophies. Just by chance, they at the same department store and Alice stood by Jack like Barbie next a to a Ken. "Dear, try not to cross your ankles- it's highly inappropriate." Lucy commented during a lunch date. Staring at Alice with a sly exspression, Alice stared back, politely nodded, before crossing her leg over the other under the table. Lucy didn't notice until Jack had etched out from the table and the small gap in between revealed Alice's position.

Lucy looked at Alice's legs. Then to Alice, who returned the same sly smirk, only with more politeness- the same dainty manner that she became accustomed to.

It would go on like that with the rare occassions they would meet. Lucy would tell Alice something, and Alice- not following outdated customs- would politely ignore it or do something against it. But it was one particular Sunday. Easter had come and Passover had ended. A picnic was held in Palm Springs and Jack- hesitently- agreed to bring himself and a pregnant Alice there.

The buffet was crowded with tons of people, but Alice didn't let it bother her until Lucy rang up next to her, telling her what foods she should intake with a pregnant belly. "Healthy foods, serve for a healthy baby- but don't eat too much, or else it'll be harder to lose the baby fat. And besides, there's a baby bump, and then there's just excess fat."

Alice chalked the comment up to one in her own head over the reason of Jack being a premature baby. Spotting a delicious chocolate cake, Alice grabbed a slice and plopped it on her plate. "Oh no, dear," Lucy snatched the cake from off her plate and set it back down. "Your already too big for that."

"Excuse me?"

Lucy smiled, rather the same sly one she had at the lunch. "I'm only looking out for you."

Alice smiled tensely. The times she used that smile was usually when Jack overreacted or Roger accidentally embarrassed the family in public with his own shenaigans and Alice had to save face. She stared right into Lucy's eyes- glossing past the innocent motherly act, as if she wasn't out for something else. Tilting her head up, she said: "Mind your own business, and you will be, okay?" Then she grabbed another slice of cake, shot Lucy one last look, before trolling over to Jack and explaining what happened at the counter.

Jack looked back to a red faced Lucy, who was storming over to the table. "Jack! Are you going to let your her talk to me like that? You really should get her home and let her have it!"

Jack squinted his eyes at Lucy. Standing up from the table and walking over to her. "Don't you ever call my wife 'a her' again. Her name is Alice. And further more, if you even think that I would 'let her have it', then maybe Dad 'let you have it' too many times to your head if you believe that's what a real man does." Grabbing Alice's hand, Jack stormed out of the picnic with Alice.

They went back to their hotel where room service served them limitless food- including a deluxe chocolate cake. "Would you some ice cream to go with that, honey?"

"Sure.... thanks Jack." Jack kissed Alice's forehead before scooping two scoops of vanilla ice cream into the bowl.

But Lucy would never forget those encounters and how Alice was so much different that what she expected her to be. The same boldness that Jack held in his eyes, was in Alice's. Jack was with his own type- quick to defend his wife from anyone, it became clear that she was his woman... no one else. Lucy sometimes resented that Alice held the family name in presence now. The hopeful glee of Lucy's type of woman, had wittled away like a steam in the tension of cold water. Now replaced with jaded memories of Alice, only signaled to Lucy once again, who Jack was. A strong man.... who wanted a strong woman. And Alice was nothing short of that.

Lucy would cringe at how Alice would stride causally in heels in a hip hugging pencil dress while holding her bags of groceries because she could. And she did. If the rules weren't candid, then she didn't follow them. Lucy would watch Alice get into her own car and drive off. She would watch Lucy wait until she was ready to marry- early thirties when she decided that she wanted to settle down with someone of her liking. She would see how Alice didn't need to be perfect- she just wanted to be happy. Jack was happy, her grandchildren were happy and their family worked. Lucy wasn't apart of it and neither was David.

And it unsettled her. And it would always haunt her in someway, that she only she knew why.

***********************************************

"Jack...." Lucy asked quietly, careful not to shift Alice's ear from the upstairs bathroom. "Did she stop you from going?"

"What?" Lucy cleared her throat. "I know you have responsibilities, but... Alice can't take up all your time, can she?"

Jack raised an eyebrow and let it turn into a furrow. "I didn't come, because I didn't want to see Dad. And you know why. I came to help you with the funeral because I know Dad would want to be buried here with all his police buddies and detective pals seeing him one last time- he was honored as a hero here, so... I know that's what he would want."

Lucy stayed quiet for a moment. "Why didn't you visit sooner- even if it was just me?" Jack took a deep breath. "Because I needed to take care of myself and do what was best for me. I just.... didn't want to come back. I left once.... and I'm happy."

The subject was dropped. Lucy continued cleaning the dishes, and Jack continued keeping his mother at arm's length.

*************************************************

Three days in New York and by day number four, the funeral had arrived. Lucy wanted a fast and quick one; choices about the house, David's stuff and other decisions needed to made at the proper time as well. Not to mention visits with the laywer about David's pension also fell over Lucy's mind.

Jack and Alice entered the funeral home- black dress, black suit and tie- as they made their way around the crowds of family, friends, and co-workers of David who respected him.

"Dad!" Jack turned and found Susan walking towards him with her arms stretched out. Wrapping her in a hug, Jack held her like he hadn't in a long time. "Baby...." he whispered. Pulling back to see her face, Jack felt tears looming. "It's so good to see you. Where's Sean?"

"Parking the car. It's crazy how we even made it down here." Susan chuckled a bit to lighten the mood. Then she became more serious. "Have you seen Roger? I told him about Grandpa-"

"No.. no. I don't think he's here yet." Jack took a step back to examine Susan: Knee length black dress, sheer black pantyhose, black heels and a gray trench coat. Silver jewlery- earrings, a watch and brotch, styling her outfit in just the way Jack would think of what Susan would wear.

Then he saw Roger. Taken aback by how sharply, yet tastefully dressed he was: black trench coat opened to reveal his black suit and tie, black loafers and right when he went to scratch the back of his head, it revealed the shiny new watch- thick black belt with a huge clock in the center of it. Jack stiffened and suddenly his gut dropped. As Roger was making his way over, a buzz sounded. His pager buzzing in his pocket. Excusing himself, he stood aside. He walked toward the phone booth, desperate with whatever he received on his pager. Too busy to notice his father trailing him.

Roger dialed each button carefully. "Hey Paul. Yeah, it's Roger. Listen- I can't make the meeting Monday.... yeah I know it's inconvient, but my Grandfather died and I have to stay for a few days in New York..... no I'm not going to use this as a way to advertise my book- let it sell out in Seattle first.....okay... okay, thanks for understanding....alright, bye."

Jack met face to face with Roger, jolting him a bit in surprise. "You scared me," he smiled. "Nice to see you though, Dad." Jack felt frozen; kicking himself awake to respond. "Nice to see you too, Roger." He smiled. Bringing Roger into a hug, it didn't vapor the distance inside of it. Like a stranger's arms were wrapped around Roger. But Jack still felt the same familiar air of love he felt when he always hugged a child Roger.

"What was that phone call about?"

"Oh, it's nothing.... my publicist wants to.... you know... do business at inapproprate times, that's all."

He had a publicist, Jack thought. Roger was famous, Jack thought. The realization soured him- sending this wobbly feeling over his body. Jack felt like he had been in a coma for years; Roger changed so much since the last he ever saw in person. Mature, hair styled differently- a short shaggy cut with a bang above his eyebrows and a bit of his forehead, swept the side- exspensive looking clothes.... a proper self made life he built for himself, that Jack was shunned out of. His little boy had grown several years in front of him and he was too stupid to even see it. He could see how handsome he was. How much greener his eyes became and how he stood a two feet taller than his father. Like a punch in the stomach- Jack couldn't allow the bellowing pride he had for his son, to glitter brighter than the clanking angst he felt inside.

A feeling that could bring Jack to his knees begging for redemption. But instead standing as tall as he could in his own misery of what he didn't have.

Before Jack could speak, the sound of heels approached. "Roger!" Alice ran to him and hugged him so hard, he nearly fell back. Smothering his face in kisses, she kept her arms wrapped around his neck as she looked into his eyes. "Where have you been?" She whispered audiablly.

"Seattle. I write books now." He smiled. "Oh," Alice pressed her head more into him.

"I miss you so much.... why can't you come home, sweetie?"

"Seattle's been so good to me- all the wonderful city people have just been so kind... plus.... the city sells books faster." He chuckled.

"I know... it's just...." Alice turned to Jack before pulling away and looking down.

"It's just what?" Alice shook her head. "Well..... the Chambers belong in California... and the long distance sometimes gets the best of us, right Jack?"

Jack nodded, standing aside watching mother and son reunite.

"Ladies and gentlemen, can we all take our seats? The service will now begin."

****************************************************

Jack felt hollow. His father- asleep in the cold murky mahoghany casket, seemed to just bleed him dry of any outstanding emotion. He was supposed to feel sad, but he wasn't. Lucy seemed to be only one shedding tears- pressing tissues up to her eyes consistantly during the ceremony. Susan was watching David's coffin- stiff and still in her seat, sitting in between her husband and brother. She caught Jack's eye- gave a slight smile, before joining her focus back to the priest. Roger sometimes shuffled around his seat, trying hard not to make eye contact with anyone- especially Jack- whose eyes seemed to bore into him. Jack felt more snags tugging at him for Roger, than he did for David.

The service- tense and prolonged more than it needed to be it seemed for Jack. Listening to the eulogy filled with lies and tales about the man David was, cut through Jack- a spike of slight anger banging through him. So, he let his mind drift. And it thought about all the fear and pain he suffered from David- justifying the obvious, even though David wasn't here anymore- the memories would still and always live inside of Jack. He knew he didn't have to go down the usual path of self pity and fury- David was who he was, and his death would never change that. But Jack needed to feel obliged; reasons for making him turn out the way he did today. And it was the same bottled down itchy gnawling feeling that led him to where he was with his family- with Roger. Not fitting into any part of his own son's life, and being made to see how much clearer Roger looked- how bright his eyes were. The tension he felt when speaking with his father was no longer there and this rested confidence sank into him more than it did for Jack when he was that age.

Jack wanted to chalk it up to just plain luck- not having to fight the way he did. But he knew Roger. Roger went his own way and did his own things in life. He forged his own path, making a career of something he didn't even realized he loved so much. Jack would never tell him that he bought one of Roger's first novels. He would never let him see it across his face of how much he wanted for Roger to achieve and how proud he was of him to have gotten where he was today. Jack just missed him. He missed his son.... he missed who he used to be and would never know the person he became. His hair was styled so differently and it was symbolic in some way to Jack. How much he distanced himself from being his father's son, to just Roger. And that's what people knew him as. That's what he wanted to be known as.

Glancing back to Roger again, the young man peered once to Jack before quickly looking back to the front. Jack turned around and kept his head straight, but his eyes dazed with his full mind for the rest of the service.

*******************************************************

Everyone cleared the home, brisking past David's black and white picture. A younger version of himself that favored Jack in some way from the right angles. Same eyes, same smile, same dimples. Jack took a longer look at it, before moving along with the crowd out to their cars and down the community center for the wake.

"That was a tasteful service," Alice said, walking to her side of the car. Jack hummed a response. Before getting into the car, he noticed from the small gaps in between the crowd of Susan and Roger talking. Barely able to make out what they were saying, he went to the trunk- closer enough to hear what they were saying, but appearences would look like he was getting something.

"I am coming to the wake- but I said that I was also saving my energy for dinner tonight."

"I know, Roger..... look- I know you and Dad had.... whatever differences you had, but at least show up a little."

"Of course! Susan... I do appericate you letting me know... and I am going to be there... I just have to make an important phone call and then I'll come join the family, okay?"

Susan smiled a little. "Alright. I love you, Roger.... I always have."

"I love you more." He smiled the same cheeky one he did as a child. Susan giggled before pecking his cheek and getting into the car with Sean. Roger walked to his, making eye contact with Jack. He gave a polite smile before getting into his car and driving off.

**************************************************

The wake ended at around five that evening. The snow was twinkling a bit and cars were being piled into and driven away. Lucy asked Jack and Alice to help clean. Jack carefully accepted and stationed himself with helping his mother with the sweeping while Alice cleared away the tables.

"I really am thankful for this, honey. Thanks for sticking around." Jack smiled. "No problem."

The room was quiet for a moment. Sounds of the broom sweeping up the dirt and crusty snow from shoes were all to be heard, along with some clattering dishes from the kitchen that Alice was tending to.

Lucy looked at Jack- studying him for a moment. "How are you and the kids?" Jack had raised his eyebrows for a moment before answering. "We're fine. Me and Alice are just enjoying retirement."

"I know how lonley it can get without the children around. I still think about when you were little and you would always want one more story, or one more cookie. It just made me so happy to see you be happy...."

Jack kept quiet. Lucy cleared her throat. "I'm gonna miss your father.... he was such good company...." Jack geared himself up for what else was about to be said. "You're good company, sweetie..... it would be nice to be able to have room to be with you.... and Alice."

Jack looked to the side for a moment and then back to Lucy. "It wouldn't be much of an invitation if it was made up from persuasion rather than a gesture.... I don't think so." Lucy sighed. "Jack, it would be nice to spend time with you.... I want to be your mom again-"

"Mom... me and Alice came here to help you with Dad's funeral. Now, with all that said and done, you can't possibly pretend that those years didn't happen, that Dad wasn't abusive to me or to you, or that everything suddenly went away like magic because he's not here. Me and my family are going home the day after tomorrow- we won't even be here. I would have did what my son obligations were and then.... I would have the peace of knowing that I did help, and that I was..... that I was a good son- even if Dad didn't realize it."

Lucy dropped the broom. Tears flooded her face as she stared into Jack's eyes sobbing. "Oh, Jack.... I know I haven't been what you wanted me to be, but I can still make it up to you with the years I have left..... please don't leave me."

"What about how you left me? Abandoning me when I needed you to defend me from Dad? Those cookies and bedtime stories and hugs or whatever didn't protect me. They didn't help me.... you sat back and let him touch me the way he did- slap me, beat me, punch me.... I look at my children and I could never do that to them- no one would ever do that to them, even now as adults."

"But you still can't leave me here to wallow- you did it the first time. When I was struggling and you just wanted to move out of the house because you couldn't let go of the little snags you ran into with David!"

"Those weren't little snags- they were serious problems!"

"I needed you!"

"I had to leave!"

"I'M YOUR MOTHER!"

"YOU'RE A GROWN WOMAN! ACT LIKE IT!"

Lucy stared back in stunned silence like she had just been slapped hard in the face. Jack simmered down enough to bore back into his mother's eyes, anger still bubbling inside of them.

"I was a child. A little boy. You were still a grown woman. If you didn't want Dad, then you should've picked up your things and left- and took me with you. I left because that's what I wanted to do. I made the choice to carry myself the way no one else would do it for me.... I took responsiblity for my life. I didn't abandon you..... I just moved on. And if you even half the guts you think you do.... you would've done the same."

Dropping the broom, Jack grabbed Alice and walked out of the building, leaving Lucy behind in the dim lights from the night snow.

*************************************************

"Jack... what happened? What did your mother say to you?" The car ride to the resturant was silent. The sound windshield wipers waving against the window-wiping away the twinkling snow that pecked at the windows like rain- were the only sounds to be heard.

"She said that 'she loved me'...... I said 'it wasn't enough'." Alice kept quiet and just stared out the window. Shortcutting down the country side of the city, they made it to the resturant. Jack's headlights spotlighted Roger's car that was parked neatly towards the back of the place. Jack parked a few spaces over. Maybe for small talk or for just the feeling of needing to feel close to his presence in some way. Alice noticed his car. Stroking the back of her hand and biting the side of her lip, she stopped herself before she nearly wiped off his lipstick. Narrowing her eyes at Jack a little, she stepped out of the car and waited for Jack's door to close before she started walking towards the front door.

Susan, Roger and Sean were sat at the table- a big round one towards the right of the resturant, sat in the back. Susan waved her hand to usher her parents towards the table.

"Roger you didn't tell me you were in New York before." Sean said. Roger chuckled. "Yeah, it was when my first novel came out and I had to do a press tour to promote it," Roger scooted his chair over to make room for his parents, "my publicist, Paul, thought it would be a good idea because a lot of young fiction writers were up and coming around the same time. He wanted me to stand out."

Roger took a sip of his ruma cola. Jack eyed it. "Roger, careful with the drinks,"

Sean chuckled. "Well, Roger's a big boy- I'm sure he can keep count." The two laughed. Jack sat back in his chair, cheeks becoming slightly red. The table ordered their food and chatted while they waited. Jack could only listen to some of the single man adventures Roger had back in Seattle; how shunned he felt from even knowing half of what went on with his son. From the conversation, Jack knew that Roger had the hots for a woman named, Kelly, he had written a book in a little cabin somewhere in Iceland, he had went skydiving, explored one of New York's lavish dance clubs, and had moved into a bigger apartment after he graduated university, upon getting a pet iguana named, Stone.

Jack smiled rigidly. A festering whirlwind of bitterness swirled inside of Jack. Omitted from his Roger's life, gave him this sick feeling of how much he wanted to- he should've been there, maybe to talk him out of some of those bad choices. But they weren't bad choices... they were just Roger's choices and Jack just didn't feel comfortable with them. Glancing between Susan and Sean, he hoped they show him some pity. And Susan did a bit. Nudging Roger towards inviting Jack into the conversation- he would and then make a way for Sean to need to interfere because of his amazement with something else Roger did, shutting Jack out again. And it was comfirmed- how much Jack didn't fit in.

Alice couldn't keep the smile off her face. Proud, amazed, joyful, like every mother would be to see her child do so well. Like she was meeting a superstar, Alice was comepletly absored in everything Roger had done. It was: "Roger, when did you do this?" or "I never knew that!" A smile was all that was plastered over her face the entire dinner. Roger could see Alice's motherly smile to Jack's pitited broken smile.

Even after dinner, the parents smiles never faltered. Sean scanned everyone and turned to Susan. "I'm going to go get the car." A subtle wink to his wife and she understood. Once Sean was out of sight, all eyes seemed to turn to Roger. "You're doing really good, Dad.... I know this is not easy at all with Grandpa David and... the issues surrounding it all... but you're doing so good and that's very commendable."

"Thank you, Roger.... I really appreciate that." Jack leaned in for a hug, taking Roger aback, but wrapped his arms around him anyway. Jack kissed his cheek, leaving Roger to feel somewhat uneasy. Old habits never change, he thought. Stepping back, Roger ushered Susan to hug Jack. As Jack was in a hug from Susan, he stared out at Roger, who's eyes were focused on the floor. Pursing his lips, he pulled away and gave Susan a sweet look before joining Alice like he need to cling to her for energy. And he did.

The four departed to their cars. Roger glanced over to Jack's car- parked a few spaces from his. Looking down and unlocking his car door, Roger shuffled into his car and waited until Jack and Alice left the parking lot before he did.

*******************************************************

In their hotel, Alice had already gotten ready for bed. Hair tied up in rollers and makeup wiped off her face, Alice was in bed snoozing away the day she had- David's funeral sparked several emotions in Jack that she could see, even if he bottled them up. But what she noticed the most was his responses to Roger and how much they've grown apart. It saddened her, but satisfied her to some extenet. She adored the relationship they used to have from when Roger was a child. But Alice couldn't forget everything that caused the drift in the first place- Jack being responsible for nearly everything of the reasons.

The lights were off and only the lamp of Jack's bedside was glowing. Sipping the last drops of gin from his glass, Jack's mind wandered over to Roger.

Jack was particularly agitated by the thought of Roger. Sure, he was at the funeral and even the pity dinner thrown for Jack in his honor, but it still wasn’t enough to shake what had been lingering outside and inside for so long. Jack knew the reasons behind his calculated approach, but to Roger- it was a nuisance. It stood in the way of every goal and mountain he chose to climb. Roger- much like the rest of the family- assumed it was because of Jack’s deep rooted addiction to seeing him as this helpless little infant, but it only appeared that way. Jack was very much well aware of Roger’s adult status. He was aware of all of Roger’s milestones. The first car, the first date, the first apartment.... Jack remembered them all too well. Like mementos or framed polaroids, they lived in the depths of Jack's brain like trees deeply rooted to the ground. And sometimes... it hurt to think of them.

But the intentions and the comprehension behind them, were entangled like mangled hair or branches upon bark and leaves. Carefully constructed, yet sloppily thrown in this basket of mushy emotions- it all lived in Jack. And only he would know why.

************************************************

It had happened one particular winter; November when the California air had mellowed from the steaming mist of summer. Alice- suspecting from her experience of her first pregnancy- knew she was pregnant with another. Jack burst in excitement upon hearing this news. Surprising as it would be, Jack seemingly was prepared. He always wanted another child. The couple had planned on it, but the exciting static shock of Alice's pregnancy still sparked through Jack.

Having already rejoiced in his firstborn, Jack grew anxious to be a father again. Jack had secretly hoped for a son- someone to relate to on a gender level. A round head little boy, sweet little eyes, deep dimples, a stubborn ambition, and a gentle sensitivity. Jack would love this little boy- nurture his every little daydream or wish.

He would dream of this child the more Alice’s belly grew more and more. He would think about a little boy this time; brown hair and darker green eyes than the ones his wife and daughter possessed. A playful laughter, and a smile full of innocent childlike wonder, while he ran through the backyard in the field of dandelions and grass blades.

It was in a movie that Jack was watching. A young boy- sweet dimples, a chunky mop of red hair and freckles scattered all over his cheeks with a peachy blush to them. Roger was the boy’s name. And it soon became one Jack’s favorites. Raymond. Richard. All overdone and used way too much. But Roger just glided off the tongue like butter. Like a child begging for a toy, Jack eagerly persuaded Alice to like the name. Not much effort needed as Alice saw this name as the perfect catch for a golden little boy.

“Maybe he’ll have red hair...” Alice said one night. Jack smiled wide.

“Who knows... black hair, red hair... golden blonde? It all runs on my end too,” Jack looked up again. “I always envisioned the baby with brown hair and green eyes; Susan favors you so much... I just hope this baby favors me.”

Alice kissed the temple of Jack’s head. “I think so. They’ll be perfect.” And he would be. Jack held onto the thought.

Even when he gritted his fingers into his palms from Alice’s morning sickness or when he held his breaths from Alice’s sharp labor pains that rang in that evening and lasted until early in the morning- 2:28 A.M. A soft fuss croaked out, and then a pink flesh colored baby appeared from the white sheets over Alice's legs.

And it was that summer- July- where Roger had come into the world, donning the same dark chocolate hair, emerald green eyes and the dark cherry pink heart shaped lips, like his father. Just like Jack. Even as a baby, Roger held that same fiery flame of passion inside him. Hollering loudly for something, or cooing softly for another thing. Even though Roger couldn’t speak, Jack understood him. He could sense when Roger was upset. Those scary rainy nights when thunder would boom through the house, Jack was already up from the bed before a wail could be heard from his baby son.

When Jack would try his hardest to put a diaper over Roger’s squirming legs, he would giggle and stare into his father’s eyes with a deep twinkle in them, pestering one in Jack’s.

Roger could sense his father’s emotions. His anger, his sadness... his fear. To Jack, whenever a bad night would appear; nightmares or night sweats from bad dreams of David, Roger was right there with a cry to wake Jack up from those thoughts and rush into his bedroom. And when Jack would carry Roger in his arms, he felt this warm fuzzy feeling like a warm blanket was being wrapped around him. A light in the dark or a hole at the end of the tunnel. Jack found a kindred spirit in Roger. He was more than just a baby to Jack, he was a friend. A little version of himself that he could hug and sing to on dreary nights. Roger clung to Jack- his protector from everything scary in the world.

Jack tickled Roger's belly to see him gurgle and smile. He gave rasberries to his neck to hear his giggles. Jack let every soothing touch gently swish on Roger's skin- wanting him to savor the soft warm gentle touches of his father.

Looking into Roger’s soft little eyes, he could see himself. Scared, alone, fragile, yet put up this tough strut and held a passion of ambition. Independence was something that Roger grew into even as a six month year old. He learned to to crawl, then walk, then run. All on his own, he would hold himself up and take himself where he wanted to go. Roger learned to babble, and then to speak. He spoke from his heart and conversed whatever was on his mind. Dominance in such a tiny package Jack thought. Jack couldn’t help but notice how Roger's furrowed eyebrows favored his own or how his puppy dog pout was practically a ‘copy and ‘paste’ from Jack as well. And Jack nurtured it. He held this dome over Roger- letting him be himself, never having to fight to defend himself from broken pain.

Jack decided he would give Roger everything that was never given to him. Teddy bears, kisses, hugs, bedtime stories, lullabies. It was how they bonded from the first touch to the first words Jack spoke to Roger. Linked together like chains, Jack promised he would never let go.

But Roger wanted to. And he did.

Roger loved Jack’s homemade cookies, his piggy back rides, his bedtime stories and warm hugs. His and Jack's one on one time- true and father and son bonding. Even the scent of him made Roger feel safe. It still did. Roger always knew he was loved. He never questioned it. It was the price he realized he had to pay for such affection that grabbed him in a chokehold.

The more Roger grew, the more expensive the cost became. So Roger would refuse to pay. When Jack dove for his nine year old son’s hand, Roger would tug it away. Jack would grab it back with a firmer grasp. Roger would snatch it away- quickly before darting off into the school, leaving Jack behind in the distance.

Eleven year old Roger, refused his scarf and hat for shallow fall weather. It wasn't cold enough to need it. Even more so, teddy bear prints and patterns were stiched all over them- Jack knitted them himself. Roger sliently balked at them; babyish and unappealing to him, Roger shoved them under his bed, and peddled his bike to school. Jack had found them later that evening. Picking them up and keeping them with him, it was when Roger was in the middle of English when he stormed into the classroom and gently donned Roger in the garments. "You'll get sick, baby- I can't let you freeze." Pressing a kiss to his cheek, Roger felt his face blush and warm. Roger blamed Jack for not being able to keep his head up through the whole in school. He shoved the hat and scarf into the depths of his closet- told his parents they must've gotten lost in the wash.

It went on like this for a while. Roger's teenage years were sometimes filled with Jack's constant smothering of affection. Always needing to hold Roger's hand, give him that extra push on the swing set or cut up his steak for him. Jack always had to be there, somewhere along the lines, it had to start with Jack. And Roger felt like he was drowing. Gasping for air- choking on his own resentment. And the more he drowned, the more the resentment grew. It liked to swallow him up like a wave. So, Roger would try to come up for air.

Sometimes he lied and snuck out. He learned to drive earlier than his parents had known; Susan would sometimes take rides from a fifthteen year old Roger, without Jack and Alice even suspecting that Roger knew how. Jack held Roger back from letting Roger have his license until he was eighteen. Susan was treated the same, but she had an easier time to obtain this privilage. Jack, didn't even bother to teach Roger. "I wanna make sure he's ready."

But he was never ready. At least not to Jack. So, Roger asked a favor from one of Dean and Bunny's boys; took him down to an empty parking lot, where Roger practiced his driving. He would watch Jack, Alice and Susan, along with anyone else he took a ride with, carefully scanning how they followed the rules of the road. Roger- saved some of summer job money for driving classes and then took the test. It was on a special anniversary dinner, when Roger annouced to his new driver's license. A month later, Roger got his first car. Jack stood by watching all of this, with an empty smile.

The same smile he wore with gritted teeth on the inside. A pique biting inside him, through his gut and core. Angry at Roger- angry at his intentions. Why was he pushing this so hard? Why was he trying so hard to pull away from him? A part of him was proud of Roger, the other held this fear- the same fear he had seeing his infant Susan lay in the hospital with meningitis. He pleaded with God, not to lose her. And somehow, that same fear manifested itself into one of Roger. Not for death, but from the loss. He couldn't lose Roger.

Jack began to ride along with Roger when he took his car out. He had to sit in the passenger seat and direct Roger where to turn, when to put your blinker on, when to use a turn signal... Roger began to just leave notes on the fridge and leave for errands early in the morning or when Jack wasn't home. Jack didn't give up- he made Roger hang his car and house keys towards the door like everyone else. But they would never be there- as Roger suspected. "Sometimes, I take them in my room because it's late sometimes when I get home, and I'm so tired.... I don't even realize I did it." Roger ignored Jack's rule after that, and would stash his keys on the inside of his closet. "Roger... we hang the keys up here." Jack pointed to the key rack.

"I like to keep my keys with me at all times. So they don't get taken.... I figured since, I would be responsible if anything happened to them, so I keep them with me." Roger swung his keys around his finger and brushed past Jack a bit, on his way out the door. Roger never mentioned to anyone how one day he took his car to a locksmith and had an extra set of car keys made just in case.

The pique bit into Jack harder, biting off the flesh and then becoming source of itself on its own. Roger's gasps for air became an oxygen tank, Jack's bites became infected with a rabid dieasese. It made him mad, it made Roger add on more tanks. If Roger went out, Jack wanted to go too. If Roger went on a date, Jack would go too. If Roger got a job, Jack would scruntinze what type of job it was, and if it should suit Roger- despite Roger having the skills.

And to Roger, Jack would posess the same babyish position. Always 'helping' him out. Giving gentle nudges to his 'baby.' Until, Roger moved out. Then the waves calmed a bit, and he could swim along to its sweet breeze rhythm. But the pique- still alive- clung to Jack, not wanting to let go. And it followed Jack everywhere taunting him in his sleep. Flooding him with those sweet memories of Roger clinging to him, like a baby koala to its mother. They soon became his nightmares. Fear mixed inside the pique began to haunt those memories. Why couldn't he be there with Roger? Why didn't Roger want him around? It was an obssesion. Jack couldn't think of anything else, but Roger's leave to Seattle. A personal slap in the face- a deep rejection of his love. The love he never had as a child, but gracefully gave to Roger, only for it to be rubbed in his face.

But, it was just college? Then Roger would be home because of how much he missed his family. Him and Jack together. He cooled off by then. Then they could have milk and cookies while Roger told him all about his times at college. The innocent times... Jack would like to think of those times in the same way Roger's school days were back then. Just teacher troubles or a playground bully.

It was him who suggested that he and Alice visit Roger. Hoping for some sense of regret in Roger. He would wrap him into his arms and Roger would feel the fresh scent of his familiar hug. And then he would finish his semester, go home and they could be a family again. No more plane rides back and fourth, just one bedroom knock away and Jack would have Roger back. But semester was over. The fall had sprung in, and three years after Roger even entered the college, Jack and Alice were on the next plane down to Seattle.

But it was something about that visit. The way Jack babied Roger- embarrassing him in front of his friends, shunning him back down to little third grader he once was having to face his schoolmates after being kissed in front of them by Jack, tickled under his chin like a baby, cooed to a lulling whisper. It made Roger understand. It made him look at Jack- the fluffy feeling of love from his father's affection disappearing- and now the same pique had now bit into Roger's tanks. It became a life of its own from the oxygen. Swirling into a hole inside of Roger, he met Jack's eyes- forging the same empty smile Jack wore when Roger had climbed those mountains of independence. As his parents left his apartment, Roger felt confident this time. No more resentment, no more struggling to breathe. It was clear how much he understood.... Jack would never see him as the man he was now. He would never let go.

Staring at a family picture, Roger met Jack's eyes again. An irk pecked into his gut, before he took the picture off the shelf and stored it away behind the other pictures in his apartment. Seattle was always meant to be his home. Roger never thought about returning to California to live there, until today. But, he liked the feeling of December cold on his skin anyway. Roger took one last look at Jack's face through the picture, before walking away. But it was later that night, he saw 'The courtship of Eddie's father.'

Something stuck in Roger, that maybe second chances could exist again. Roger finished his latest piece with his company, then his first draft for his first novel. A year had gone by, and hinging on twenty six and half, Roger worked his nerve to give his father the phone call that he hoped would change everything.

A phone call later that month, exspressing how Roger felt to Jack ended with yelling and angst.

"Dad..... I'm not a little boy anymore!"

"Roger, all I wanna do is protect you! I'm still going to do that no matter what, because I'm still your father! College doesn't change that!" Roger breathed heavily. "Dad... you can't do those things anymore- you know what I mean."

"Roger... is something going on up there? I need to know! What is it even about Seattle that amazes you? It's not all that to me... you shouldn't have moved away from your family.... you need me, Roger. You always will, why are you denying that?"

"Dad-"

"Roger.... you're my son- my little boy. You can't make it on your own- now just be a good boy and come home!" Roger blinked. "A good boy?"

"Yeah... you are a boy."

"Dad- I'm a grown man-"

"You're in your early twenties, you're not that old, Roger."

"So, even when I'm in my thirties- you'll still see me as just 'a boy?'"

"Roger....come on. We both know that this move was just a spur of the moment thing-"

"You can believe that for whatever reason you need to- I'm not coming home. I am not a little boy, I'm not a baby, or a some stupid kid that can't take control of his own life..... maybe you'll never understand that, Dad, but it's not going to change."

"Roger- watch your tone! No, you are not fully capable of making mature choices because you don't know much yet. You'll always need someone to be there! You'll always need someone to help you! You can't do this on your own. Maybe you want to try, but, Roger..... you are still just a kid. You know you are... you know you need me."

The other line sat quiet for a while. "Roger?"

"You need me.... more than I could ever need you!"

Click!

The line went dead. All that was left was the buzzing of the line. The last conversation, unknown to Jack- Roger would change his number and never call the Chamber's residence again.

It was past Roger's thirtieth birthday. That last phone call was when Roger was twenty seven.

Since then, Roger had never moved the family picture to full view again. Between the bookshelf of where his own books lived, instead, it sat in the back of one of Roger's desk drawers- folded and tucked away, neatly and safely, but forgotten. Or, that's how Roger wanted to see it at least. Roger had spent those years, traveling, dating, going to therapy and releasing his first novel- a drama fiction that involves a tangled romance and a broken dream of family life. Jack's heard of Roger's novel. He had read a few chapters, trying hard not to think of Roger. He couldn't finish it. He stored it away safely in his closet, and tried not to let the thought of the book, bustle him. Jack imagined it with eyes, watching his every move in the bedroom. But he just ignored it.

It broke Jack's heart more than he wanted. The pique that had been laboring in Jack for all those years- like the tank in Roger's body- had finally exploded. And the pieces fell over him. Scattered over the ground like broken potato chips, Jack couldn't let it sink in just how.... how Roger had let go of him. Those last words, rang through his mind everyday like church bells. It hit his heart and would it sting like an open wound with drips of lemon juice. Jack had to shove it into the back of his brain- those last words of his son, would never be held against him, but would try not to be remembered on any occassion.

And that's where it would stay. Locked up in Jack's brain, and etched out of his heart. Fanned down with water poured around it, but still hidden little flames brimming inside the wood, ready to ignite once again.

*********************************************

The day after tomorrow was here, and so was Jack and Alice's plane. As the family was packing up to return home, Jack ran into another snag. Lucy found their hotel. She took her time marching to the elevators, down the hall and right to the door of the couple's room. A gentle knock sounded at the door- breaking Jack's concentration with pack his bags. Like he already knew who was at the door, an irritation spiked him. He yanked the door open and was met with Lucy.

"Hi Jack..." He didn't respond. "Can I come in?"

"We'll talk somewhere else." Grabbing his jacket and room key, Jack escorted Lucy down the hall.

Finally making their way into one of the hotel's resturants, Jack and Lucy took a table in the middle. Before Jack could speak, the waiter came.

"Hello, my name's, Steve, can I get you guys anything to get started with?"

"I'll just have a coffee." Jack said. "A tea with lemom would be nice."

Lucy stared back to Jack as the waiter walked away. "Jack.... I know this is hard for you."

Jack looked up at Lucy. "Mmm,"

Lucy licked her lips. "I... know that growing up in the house wasn't easy and... I can understand that." She looked down, afraid to make eye contact all of a sudden. "When I was younger, David was different. I don't know what changed him, but when we were first dating, he was kind and gentle. Playful actually, like you. And then, when we had you- I guess..... some parents see themselves in their children- I'm sure you do in your own son, right?"

Jack tensed up. Taking a deep breath in and rubbing his fingers together, he looked around the resturant, hoping for his coffee to come soon.

"Well... David.... your personalities were very similar and sometimes when that happens, parents tend to be harder on that child because they see their own mistakes in them; wanting them to be a better person then they are. But David loved you very much-"

"Seems like a blurred line." Jack tightened his lips. "You know.... Roger is like me in some ways. And yes, sometimes I do see myself in him-"

"You see, Jack-"

"Hold on, I'm not finished. While me and Roger are alike, I still have a choice. I treat Roger they way he deserves to be treated and there is no personality that will or should move the way I feel about him, or interfere in how I treat him with that love. No disrespect Mom, but you can make those excuses for Dad, but it'll never make him into a good person or a good father. He had a choice and my personality is nothing like his- I don't get violent or petty, I don't hurt my wife and I certainly don't lay a finger to my children. Whatever fantasy about Dad and who he was before or who he became after doesn't change anything. He was violent, he attacked and abused me, he was abusive to you and there is nothing on this planet that will ever be a good enough excuse for a parent to be a failure to their children. If you can't see that- even after all these years....... even with Dad being dead and you being free from that marrige.... if you can't understand that everything that's happened, then there's no reason for me to be in New York for any longer than I have been."

"Jack... I worked hard to make our family unit work. No, it wasn't perfect the way it was supposed to be- but I just wanted you to have a father and I needed a husband. I'm so sorry you feel this way and if I could change that, I would. Being a mother is hard, being a wife is hard, being a woman is hard, Jack. You don't understand because you're still a child in some way. All we ever wanted was to have your best interests at heart and.... so we went on with life, continuing doing what we had to do to be a family. So... maybe David did lose control sometimes and maybe you did get hurt in the mist of it... but can you not think about how much we sacrificed to give you this life because we love you? The past is the past Jack, and.... the only thing we can do now is cherish and honor your father's life. So, forget about that nonsense of David doing this or David doing that- independence isn't what it's all cracked up to be. Don't fan the flames, Jack.... follow the rules... and you'll be safe.

A silence fell over the table. Jack stared hard into his mother's eyes. Anger didn't even fuel him at this point- utter complete disgust had taken over, forcing Jack to see the other ugly side of the wicked table he was forced to sit at.

"Mom.... you settled for nothing because 'as a woman' that's what you believed yourself to be. That's why Alice intimidates you, that's why you're okay with being mistreated, and that's why even after all these years, you defend your abuser. You don't take me seriously because you play into this social code of being so satuated in 'a woman's place' that earth has spun a million times around you and you still can't move. Instead of working hard and forging a path of life in the way you wanted to live it... you just... beat yourself down until anyone could come and court you and you would still take it because that's all your good for- just a housewife. Tell me, what is it that you gave up? A man? A career? A goal? What is it about you that you can't let go of and instead needs to dangle onto the pieces of my self made future, and be a passive aggressive crone to the very woman who embodies everything you could never be, because you never tried to be her. You never tried for yourself and you expect me to hold your hand as you fall down into your own hole of worthless satisfaction because of a lie you choose to live because it's easier than a being a real woman. You don't have the guts to pick yourself back up and take a good, hard, stern look in the mirror and ask yourself: 'What am I going to do about it?' What I'm going to do, is grab my wife, my kids, and my bags and get the hell out of this city before I lose my mind too."

Sitting up from the table, Jack took one last hard look at Lucy. "Enjoy your tea." And with that, he left. Lucy sat at the table, still in this thick trance of mortification. Every word whizzed around her head like flies over a corpse. Even after the tea arrived, Lucy couldn't make herself drink it. Sitting there feeling smaller than a grain of rice, she didn't even try to fight it. She understood. Lucy was back in Jack's old bedroom, hugging the cold floor, after he had moved out from the home- not looking back for a second to what he left behind. And she was one of those things. David was gone, Jack was gone.... and now Lucy would have to live in the shattered shadow of herself- dying a slow bitter death from her own hands.

There was nothing else that could be said. Lucy had written her life exactly how she imagined it. Trapped and bubbled in this promise of what would make her happy, brought nothing but misery for everyone invovled. But even through the thick wall of the unknown, Lucy still had dreams. And her dreams would live unfinished in the deepest depths of her brain where she had kept them from the first time they even appeared.

************************************************************

Lucy couldn't shake the idea of a family. Mothers strolling down the aisles of the market with one child holding her hand, the other close to her chest in a sling. Then there were the three or four kids packed into the backseat of the family volkswagon for a family day trip. Families were everywhere to Lucy. Her friend, Diane and her husband, Ethan, had welcomed boy and girl twins that spring.

"They're beautiful! Irene looks just like you!" Lucy looked over to Diane's son. "Denver's Ethan's twin!" Lucy found herself lost in the cherubical cooing eyes of the new infants. Their gentle little yawns, their chubby little legs and baby doll faces felt perfect to Lucy. She observed the way Diane and Ethan interacted with their new children. How gentle Ethan was towards his children- especially Denver. Unafraid to lift him in his arms and smooch his little chubby cheek. Or seeing how Diane dressed Irene up in little dresses like a doll and how she would sing her in a gentle song like voice to sleep while holding her protectively in her arms- swaying back and forth like a delicate wind in the middle of a calm April.

Lucy could only observe the couple enjoying their new additions. Complete with their family- complete with their lives. Lucy had always felt Diane to be one step below what she should've been. But it was now Lucy who felt like she was three steps behind. Diane had did it all- courted, married, became pregnant and now was a mother. Diane was a wife and a mother- everything she should've been. She had done it all. Her home had improved- rich and lush backyard, wide living room with velvet pillows on the matching couch. Wall lights on every side of each door in the hallway, kitchen with big ovens, bright lights over the stove and a little crystal chandelier hanging over the sink.

Different from the simple little home they lived in for the first few months of their marriage- Ethan gaining up his own business, decided his family needed to begin on a different side of the city. Big white home, balcony overhead of the front door, picture windows on each side- big house sitting on a lush thick hill of grass with roses planted towards the front door.

Diane had everything. Everything that Lucy was sure she was destined to have. Groups of families were everywhere Lucy turned. Little boys and girls, babies, teenagers, preteens- all skating along with their parents down the road of family life. Something Lucy needed. It was planned; a promise that was decided for her once she entered into the pubescent callow ambition of preparing for future purpose. Lucy began to wonder when it would happen. When her belly grow with a child, when would she be able to nurture a child. Lucy had it all set. Her and David would go for a nice dinner by the lake. Then... they would continue their night in a whirlwind of lust all the way into the bedroom. Then a few weeks later, Lucy would be pregnant- expecting her first child, like she always wanted.... like she needed. Diane had a husband, she had riches... and now she had children. Lucy couldn't think about her friend's perfect little home on her serene little hill with her wealthy husband, her perfect set of twins- of each gender.

It was all Lucy could think about some days- despite her intentions to not to. Babies, Diane, her twins, her home- they all circled Lucy's mind like a spinner. And the more it spinned, the more her desires grew... and so did her fears. Lucy needed a baby- being the housewife she was expected to be- the woman she should be- she needed a baby.... she had to be a mother.

*******************************************************

It was late winter- Febuary, Valentine's day, when Lucy realized she was pregnant. She knew she was. She was never full anymore, her periods had gone and every morning, a pounding sickness would befall her. Sometimes she would just feel nauseated and tired, other times she would being rushing towards the bathroom with lightning speed before any vile could come up.

The first few months, Lucy assumed it was just a stomach bug. "You'll be fine," David would say, "what's for dinner?"

Some nights, Lucy was humped over the toilet, gagging and throwing up into the toilet. David would turn the radio up or leave to walk down to the local bar. Then her stomach started to grow. Caught between excitment over the little fetus growing; expanding her belly large- belly button poking out a bit of her maternity dress. "Cover it! You don't want people thinking you're a whale!" David sneered. Lucy could see the looks on David's face whenever they went out in public together. Lucy felt proud to show off her little bump; a medal, she felt like. An award for how fertile her body was. How easy it was to carry a baby. No one seemed to stare, as far as Lucy could see. Men opening doors and grabbing the items on the highest shelfs for Lucy- David standing behind, chatting with the slender checkout girl who was several years younger than him.

Woman smiling and congratulating Lucy on her pending new bundle of joy. It was also around the time Lucy would find pin-up girls; bare woman pictures stashed by David's desk. Lucy just stared at the pictures- the woman- slender, nude, with bright smiles or seductive smirks. Something broke in Lucy. But she obediently placed the pictures back into David's hiding spot, rarely going by the desk ever again.

Days and nights went by. Lucy felt the sting of feeling bloated; a fat unattractive whale, like David would point out at every turn. Lucy- broken hearted and empty- reassured herself of it all being worth it. The baby would be here and their family would be complete. David would scoop their child in his arms and kiss their little face all over- proud of them for being his little baby. "They're alright," David said of children, while smoking a cigarette one evening. "Their likes cars: people have them to show em off, then stuff them in the back when they don't wanna be bothered." Lucy sighed. David... did make a point. Most parents did love their children- Diane and Ethan being head over heels with theirs. But the style of society was children were to be 'seen and not heard.' David didn't exactly dislike children himself- he felt nothing for them. No hate, no love. "Better not be no little shit or something.... I'll kick its ass if they screw with me... fucking up my time or something...."

"Oh, David, they'll be perfect-"

"It needs to be a boy. A son is a good value to pass down the Chamber name."

It made something else snap inside Lucy. As the months passed, her stress grew. Lucy pared her eating habits- slim with a slight belly was good enough. At least, to David it was. "You're too big for sex now, Lucy. I don't need you crushing me in my sleep or something."

Tiredness became faintness. Lucy would fall over on the bed, or nearly slip in the kitchen. Sudden panic attacks would plauge whenever the thought of David with another woman would enter into her brain. Never proved, Lucy suspected it. It swallowed her focus over the last trimester- so much so, that the braxton hicks simply slipped past her. And it was that October when Jack was born. Sudden contractions hit her one evening, rushing David out of the bed and to the hospital. "It wasn't supposed to be like this!" She said, aloud. "It's too early!"

"Just calm down, Lucy... it's just a month, it ain't like the baby's coming six months early- then you would've failed." David laughed.

A few screams and pushes later, Jack's cries could be heard from all the way down the hall. Rushed to the incubator, Jack lived in there for the next month. As Lucy would pace the halls and look into the little glass box that held her baby, fear overtook her. "He was supposed to be healthy," She said to herself. "He was supposed to come in November."

David never visited the hospital even once. At home, drinking down a usual six pack, Lucy would take the car to the hospital up until Jack came home on his planned due date. But Lucy would remember that month Jack spent in the hospital. A fierce passion for power. Kicking and screaming whenever the nurse would come to change his diapers. Grabbing at his feeding tube, moving his arms and legs in every direction. Eyes opened, scanning around the room for what he could see. Lucy wouls swaddle his little hand in her fingers. Eyes staring so deeply into him- seeing how green his eyes were, how deep his dimples were. Taking him home one night, Lucy let this deep sigh of relief out inside her. Healthy and free, Jack had made it out to the other side.

But the fight was far from over.

***********************************************

Jack, only a few months old, could sense something about his surroundings. Quiet most days, but usettling- a heavy mog of precarious lingered through every door, around every corner and inside every wall. Even through the bars of his crib, Jack felt cold. Unprotected- even in the arms of Lucy, Jack carried this sense of helpless exposure. Looking into Lucy's eyes, Jack saw through them. The smile she wanted so badly to carry through every inch of her. Jack could only stare at Lucy. Look into her eyes- the way she wanted- but saw nothing. A hollow facade sat still in her eyes, her smile, her laugh, the way she catered to David... the way she loved Jack. And in some way, he knew that. A deep lie sat in back of the catalog magazine picture face, she held. Bright smile, fresh skin, perfect body- everything carefully caculated down to the last detail. But Jack was a baby- a small helpless little one who needed a fresh love from their caregiver. Lucy's body carried the weight of her desires- it was the effort behind the little word she created that carried nothing. To Jack, her perfect skin was cold. Her milk was sour. Her arms were wobbly and frail. Jack couldn't depend on anything Lucy could offer- even from her own body.

It took almost a month for Jack to latch to his mother's nipples. Lucy pulled him close, only for Jack to pull away. Then when Jack was four months, Lucy tried to hold him in a baby sling while going for a stroll in the park. Jack cried the whole time- using his little arms to pull himself away from Lucy's chest. A red faced Lucy took Jack home and set him down for a nap for the rest of the afternoon. After several attempts of this, Lucy eventually gave up until Jack was nearly a year old and they would go to the park- a playdate with Diane's twins- while Jack was preoccupied with a toy.

This frustrated Lucy. Jack wouldn't want his mother's touches- her hugs or kisses she tried to pepper onto his cheeks. Not cooing the way baby Denver did when his Dad would make funny faces, or how Irene would giggle over her Mommy tickling and kissing her little feet. Jack wouldn't smile, even when Lucy would smile at him. When Jack began to crawl, he would crawl over towards his stuffed bear- scooting around his parents to reach the stuffie. Jack took his bottle- holding it in his hands himself once he learned what a grip was. Jack learned to stand on his own and took his time walking into the kitchen to reach the little block that was under the table. Jack learned to do what most babies did on his own. Lucy was there. She would wait for Jack to crawl to her; beg for her warm soothing gestures of love or fed off her motherly tenderness. But she was just forced to watch. Looking at Jack grow up for himself- all on his own.

He rejected her hand in anything- wanting to do it himself. And that's what Jack did- everything he wanted to do.... he did. All by himself.

Lucy would watch from the couch- staring at Jack, waiting for him to mess up, so she could come in and mother him. Take control of her destiny. What kind of mother, doesn't teach their baby? She thought. What baby.... doesn't want their own mother? This would sit Lucy until Jack was a year and a half. And then again when the day came for Jack to leave the family home.

The more Jack grew, the more he learned to do. And while Lucy could celebrate these things... resentment start to set in as well.

************************************************************

Lucy thought she couldn't put her finger on it; reasons piled to why Jack wouldn't want to latch close to his mother- the woman who gave him life. Nursing him inside of her body for all those months, only to be rejected- it spat back in her face. Lucy would look at Diane and Ethan and how their family was so different. Love was flooded in every corner of their home. They had the family fun daytime trips, the beach days on hot summer days, the big vans that shuttled the family of four around, wherever they wanted to go. Whenever it suited them.

Maybe Jack was just different. Maybe something was wrong with him, Lucy thought. After all, she did everything right. She let David have what he wanted; sizing herself down during her pregnancy days for his idea of what her body should look like, powdering the little stretch marks she had that looked like cracks on the edges of where her belly grew, being very strict with her calories and how much milk she pumped into Jack's bottles-David liked bigger breats and Lucy needed to please him- but it still wasn't enough. Lucy held Jack close to her and he would push her away... she'd push him harder towards her and he would cry.

It was always liked that when Lucy would steer him harder towards her. And Jack would cry. He would crawl away, walk away, run away. And Lucy would have to watch him from behind as he sheltered himself from her.

Those days, Lucy questioned why she even had Jack in the first place. But... she knew why. Lucy needed a perfect family. Jack completed that family. Except.... he didn't want to be a part of it. Desperation kicked in. The harder Lucy tried to bond with him, the more Jack wouldn't want her around. So then resentment settled in. Money- all of hers would be spent on baby clothes that Jack would either throw up on or soil. Then her time would be spent, making bottles and filling them faster than her body could handle. It exhausted her, leaving her with barely any energy to care for a baby. Lucy had comepletly forgotten about what signs of developmental issues the doctor advised her to look for. She was too tried- to angry to care. David got to sit back and jug down his usual beers and smoke his musky cigars, while Lucy- barely hanging on, had to tend to a baby that she couldn't seem to get to love her, no matter what she did.

Lucy begin to understand the deep meaning of bitter disappointment. "I tried." She would always say to herself some days, when Jack was extra fussy. Slamming bottles into the sink, practically yanking at the snips of Jack's diaper when he needed changing, Lucy felt beyond angry. She felt cheated. Like life cheated her- fooled her into the believing how perfect life would be if she just simply did as she was expected to. Jack would cry- scream through the night sometimes. Lucy would lie awake, eyes wide open from her own bitter thoughts- not the boring cries from Jack's bedroom. "Shut that damn kid up!" David rolled over and glared at Lucy. Lucy glanced over. "Dave, I'm tired, can't you do it?"

"You wanted him, right?"

"Yea-"

"Then you go change his diaper or whatever the hell he's crying over!"

Lucy huffed and stormed into Jack's room. She just looked down in his crib; didn't touch him, didn't say a word to him.... just stared. A glare forming over her face. Jack's cries made her think of when he was born....too early. He could've died. Then what would a dead baby be good for? He couldn't come home on time, ruining her chance to show him off to Diane and Ethan- rubbing it in their face of the detectives new son. But instead, she was left the pace the hospital floors, worrying the hair out of her head, whether or not Jack would even survive the night.

Her body was gone. The one David loved so much. Now was replaced with a nudie magizine and for Lucy- a slouchy stomach and stretch marks that looked like webbed little cracks. The lotion softened them and underestimated their apperance, but no matter how good they looked, David would know they were there and so would Lucy. But then Lucy started to notice the twins. They're hair had grown in- Denver's dark brown and Irene's blonde. She noticed how when Diane would walk through the front door, the children would run into her arms, each one clawing for her attention. The resentment grew from there- Lucy thinking Diane was undeserving of such a bond. She didn't marry well- Ethan barely making ends meet when they first met. Diane wasn't a typical housewife- working for the news station at the public radio center downtown. "How can she even make time for her family? For her children?"

"Mhmm," David responded. "I mean- she should be home catering to house. That's what a wife does.... and to be a mother and run around like that.... that's not what women were created for."

"Damn right." David puffed in another puff from his cigar. "Probably hoe hopping or some shit, knowing her..." And Lucy wanted to believe that. But she knew Diane: crisp, clean, sturdy in her ambitions and devoted to the only man she ever layed eyes on in such a tender way all through her life.

One night, Jack was crying for something- Lucy didn't even care what it was for. But his wailing seemed to grind inside her ears. "Oh I can't stand to hear the children cry, especially when they're in pain," Diane took a sip of her tea, "I just feel so helpless in those situations. Last week, Denver needed a small booster and when he wailed I just couldn't take it. I wanted to just step out for a minute, but Ethan left before me. He can't bare to hear the children cry either."

Lucy could relate half heartdly to Diane's woes. She hated hearing Jack cry, but more for the annoying blares of it, rather than the anxious worry of might be happening. She tried rocking him in her arms- he still cried. She tried singing to him, but he still cried. Lucy paced the living room floor with Jack tucked into her arms, but he still cried. And nothing was about to make it stop. "God dammit! Stop crying!" She snapped. Her hands clutching him a bit harder than she should, her grip tightning with every second she held him. So, she set hims down on the couch and walked into the kitchen. Whatever happens, happens she thought. But the crying echoed even into the kitchen. Scrambling to every corner of the house, she just couldn't escape Jack... haunted by her mistake. Lucy didn't want Jack... she never did. But... she wanted the perfection. So, Jack had to be born if she was to complete it.

But it still didn't eschew the crying. Lucy thought for barely a second. Her nerves and anger reaching its limit. Storming back into the living room, she grabs Jack into her arms and swaddles him into one of his warm fuzzy blankets. She grabbed the old box from where Jack's crib had been delivered in and cut it into a smaller one with the boxcutter. David was at work, the house was empty and only the glow of the streetlamps could be seen. Stepping out of the house carefully, Lucy walked down a few blocks, turned a corner here, another one there, until she hit the fire department. She carefully placed Jack into the box and slid him towards the front door of the station. His crying had stopped and Lucy turned around to walk away. But something stopped her. It made her spin around and yank Jack back up into her arms and rushed back home.

Lucy never mentioned a word of what happened that night- to David, nor to Jack.

Lucy knew the reasons why she took Jack back into her arms that night. It was because she saw a glimmer of hope in her future. She held hope that she did the right thing- she followed the rules and someday she would be rewarded. Lucy was a woman, who became a housewife and then a mother. She married well, she stayed at home and cared for the house, she tended to every need and want of her husband and made sure she obeyed and respected David when it was necessary. Everything she was supposed to be. A smile came over Lucy's face. She did do right. She may have had to sacrifice her desires, but it was worth it. The perfect family was the perfect goal in every woman's life and she slowly begin to accept that again. It was her duty to be this way and it would never change.

And as Jack grew, the more she steeped into that role. Submissive when David 'punished' Jack, or understanding when a bruise or two fell over face or her son's because of a bad work day. "He's just a little upset, sweetie." She would tell a five year old Jack. Heels neatly side by side as she stood over the sink, scrubbing out the pots and pans from dinner last night, Lucy wore this cheesy smile over her face that couldn't be broken, no matter you told her otherwise.

Jack remembered looking her up and down. A sick feeling eroded itself over him like vile in the stomach wanting to be expelled. But it was just his mother. Her obsessive dedication to the man who would continue to haunt Jack- even into his adulthood- and stand by like nothing was happening. Jack hated the grin his mother would give him after every 'fall' or 'clumsy move' and she was bandaging him up in the bathroom. Her eyes held the most intense and unsteady cynicism that he would ever see in a person. And he would see those eyes looking down into his crib, or while he would be nursing from his bottle and she would just stare at him. The same woman that he felt such a irk from the moment he met her, wouldn't even come to his defense, but asked the nerve to join her in her dizzy little daydream of what the Chambers household really was. Squinting his eyes at her, he hopped off the stool and went into his bedroom. Lucy heard the door slam; a flinch sprung through her before she took a deep breath, remembered the reward and continued scrubbing those dishes.

Jack would sit in his room and think about Lucy. He would think about how her smile, her little laugh and her jolly good nature was all crafted to fit what she need it to be. He felt it. He knew it. Jack knew the way she looked at him wasn't a motherly smile or even just naive positivity. All of it- masked into this little dance of what she wanted to be so badly, that she could even kill for it.

And for that Jack was alone. Comepletly alone. And years later... Lucy would begin to understand just how much it costs to be perfect.

*************************************************

Alice was packing her things into her suitcase carefully. Placing each item very carefully- taking her time almost stalling to leave New York. And in some way, she was. Alice wanted to be with her children. She wanted Roger and Jack to talk. She wanted Susan and Jack to talk about Roger and David.....maybe. Alice just wanted to be a whole family again.

Knock!

Alice shot up, walking towards the door and looking through the peep hole, she was met with Roger's hourglass presence. She opened the door instantly- her face lighting up at seeing her tall lanky son. His broad shoulder's seemed more dense in the lighting, his hair more browner and eyes more grassy colored. "Hi," he said. Short with words, Alice didn't even reply- only invited him in without a moment's thought.

"Where's Dad?"

"Downstairs in the lobby I think with your Grandmother, Lucy." Roger took a deep breath. "Good." Alice looked up. "Good?"

Roger shrugged. "I wanted to talk to you...... I just wanted to give a proper goodbye- we didn't have much time to chat at the funeral."

Alice looked down. "I know..." she came closer. "I'm going to miss you.... so much..." her voice cracked. Roger pulled Alice in for a hug.

She cried softly into his body, letting out the shattered pieces of their tense filled reunion. "Oh, Roger.... please just come home...." she sobbed. Pulling away and looking into his eyes, Alice faced her son and studied his more mature features than when she last saw him a person in the same lighting only a few years back. So young and ambitious with pride and such good faith. A thirty year old now stood in front of her- a chiseled jawline, piercing yet steady and gentle eyes, a few more forehead creases and a subtle little lines hidden around the corners of his mouth when he smiled and the corners of his eyes when they squinted from a deep smile.

A shockwave of pride and ire shot through her like a vodka shot. Angry that Jack made her miss out on those few years in between where she could slowly see how his face- his body... himself and how much he was shaping into through them. But they were stolen from her the minute Roger cut the off from Jack, leaving her to suffer in the middle of the downfall of it all.

"We missed your thirtieth..." she started. Roger looked down. "Yeah.... I celebrated myself with a few drinks and a fancy dinner.... I had a book release a week before and I celebrated that much harder-"

"It would've been a nice party.... you're always releasing books, honey. But what about.... making time for the other things... yourself and.... the people around you...."

"You mean like Dad?" Alice gave him a look. "Well... I mean.... you know..." Suddenly Roger's confident little smirk simmered down into a frown.

"You don't have to be coy.... I did what I wanted to do with him, and.... that's all there is..."

"He's heartbroken! I understand you want some independence, but- he's your father.... all he wanted was the best for you, Roger...."

"So... you're defending him?"

"Roger.... I'm not justifying your father's way of handling it, but you have to understand... people aren't perfect."

Roger was quiet for a moment. Alice continued to stare into him, hoping to break his concentration from whatever was forming in his mind. "What are you expecting me to do?"

Alice raised her hands before slapping them against her thighs. "Maybe... make amends?"

"No. Not this time."

"Why not?"

"Mom.... Dad.... he has problems.... for whatever they are, whatever it will be, they're there... and they're very real. I made a choice to not make those my problems... and unfortunatly, if I carried on with brushing it off like -at least how people expect me to- then Dad would've became one those problems for me too.... So.... I let it go. And in the process.... I've had to let him go too."

Alice stared for a second.

"Amends is not something that just comes out of thin air because of interchangeable expectations... or maybe.. just disappointments. Frankly, I'm just not ready to have that type of conversation with someone who I feel hasn't changed. And then that would just leave us with all those years of the same thing. I guess.... it's just inappropriate at this time for me to fully commit myself to something that.... just doesn't exist for me right now."

Alice blinked. "Roger.... how could you say something like that about your father?"

"Because you were decent." Alice's eyes grew wide with a glossy shine over them. Roger came closer to his mother, meeting her face. Pressing a kiss to her cheek, Roger stared back, as Alice had trouble rejoining her attention to her son's face.

"And I thank you for that..." Roger gave Alice one last look, before opening the door and walking out of the room.

************************************************

Everything felt hazy for Jack that evening. Jack and Alice said their goodbyes to everyone: Susan, Sean and Roger. They watched their daughter get onto her plane with Sean closely behind her, they watched Roger settle into his flight, looking down at his pager for something important, and then their plane arrived and took them back to their warm weathered cozy home in San Deigo.

As the world shifted into the next year, Jack still was somehow stuck back in that hotel room- the funeral reliving every moment of that hurt. Pain from everything around him: his mother, his son, his wife.... not able to focus his mind on his dead father buried in that casket. Jack took another swig from his Jack Daniels. No glass with him, just straight from the bottle. He wondered if Alice would know that he was gone by now- the bed empty and cold on his side and Alice would feel this light air pressing against her back.

Jack sipped down the last drop of his liquor, but still unnumbed. Wide open- his mind racing in a thousand different places, and they all led to David. His screams, his insults and belittling, his punches, his kicks, his slaps... all haunted Jack like this mirror on the wall, reflecting ghosts behind him to shatter him comepletly pale and striken with hoplessness. Then Jack thought about the casket. How it was probably heading back down to Virginia right now, where David originated from. As the circles around his eyes sunk in deeper, Jack- in a faint but grounded sense- decided he would finally end this.

His son hated him, his wife was beginning to hate him and his daughter was forced to look at the once perfect family turn broken into a million different pieces scattered all over the floor. And Jack had enough. He would find a way to fix this- to make his family whole again.

And he would begin with his own roots. Jack would finally set himself free.

And somehow... set everyone free as well.

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eternal--returned · 2 months ago

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I just woke up to my second day out of the hospital. I went in to the ER with an ulcer flare that had drained my blood and made me weak on 11/6. For 11 days I laid in the hospital bed waiting to see if steroids would get the flare under control. In those days there was zero progress. Eventually they would place a feeding tube down my nose into my stomach. I had it in for three days before I had a vomiting fit and the tube came up with everything else. The 11 days were horrifying in the lack of improvement. I was slowly wasting away in the hopes that the inflammation would finally stop, but since I had lost so much weight and blood and strength we opted finally for surgery. The surgery would be life changing in many ways. They were going to cut me open using the same incision spot I had in February of this same year. That spot had healed so well and I was so proud of it. I was nervous about how the surgery would change parts of my life. They were removing my colon and placing an ileostomy and I would have to wear an ostomy bag that would hang from the right side of my abdomen for an unknown period of time and would some day be reversible. Thinking how that would change what I wear and ideas about what it would be like and how different taking care of that new appendage would be. I also knew the surgery would mean that I very likely will not have to deal with ulcer flares again because the source of it all would be eliminated. I would also eliminate my very rising chances of getting colon cancer at some future point.

The day of surgery brought at least SOMETHING - finally something different to try and to do. As I was wheeled down to the ER in the early afternoon, they were still working on getting the OR ready. I was set in my bed outside against the wall. With a few moments to myself I closed my eyes and felt strongly how much better I was about to feel. It was such a clear certainty that I was immediately buoyed up and I happily greeted all that would be working on me telling them how grateful I felt for how good they were about to make me feel. It brought in good energy and everyone smiled and seemed pleased and excited to get going.

After surgery I did feel immediately better. I knew progress would happen now. But I didn't have any clue that the next couple weeks would try me and break me past limits I had inside myself.

The first problem after surgery was that I just . . . couldn't pee. The simplest thing in the world. Apparently it's a very common occurrence for men post that particular surgery. I was told that if I couldn't pee in 6 hours that they had to ultrasound my bladder to check the fluid level and if I was above a very small amount they would have to cath me. I woke up from surgery with a full catheter installed during surgery. Hurt like a motherfucker when they pulled it out that same day. So my urethra already looks and feels all the way inside scraped and sore and dry. I did NOT want to be cathed again. It terrified me. It felt like such an invasion. I stared to obsess about peeing. I would try to calm myself: to relax my pelvis in different ways, patting my chest with my hand, thinking about being calm and outside in the sunshine, and music. Feel the Flow became the mantra I would repeat over and over in my mind. Then suddenly in a brilliant and funny and just really tender mercy . . . I thought of the song Orinoco Flow by Enya. I was like - omg, I have to make a Pee playlist and that will help me relax and get the message through my body to let it flow man - sail away sail away sail away. I got my playlist made. It ended up being about 3 hours of Enya and like that Return to Innocence song and one of those Gladiator songs and that Adiemus song. That playlist became so important. Enya became so important. I had my nice speaker on with Enya filling the room the whole rest of my stay. The whole time. My spotify stats for the year just got destroyed. I hadn't thought about Enya or listened to her music since high school. I think I had two of her albums, maybe three. I would fall to sleep to them all the time. But I hadn't listened to her in 25 years and suddenly it's all I wanted.

I couldn't pee though. Cathed. So unpleasant and I was getting near to breaking. I was a shaky mess and it took great effort to talk in a voice that sounded so fucking weak and weary. I was frayed. I was also on the clock. 6 hours until they would come check again, and if there was too much fluid, a cathening was coming.

I couldn't calm myself. The Enya stuff was helping, but I could think of nothing else but that soon I would be cathed again if I couldn't pee. I came up with a plan with my nurse. I told her to give me a 20 minute warning before she brought in the ultrasound machine so I could just go try one final time. No luck. No pee. The pleading I did there in that bathroom. I was begging any and every god and ancestor and good feeling in the world to just let me pee. The end of my penis was starting to look so sad and worn. I knew I would break if they cathed me again.

After the second cath I was talking to my nurse. Nurses are absolute angels. What a hard job. What amazingly caring and nurturing people. I had some of the most amazing discussions with my nurses over the three weeks I was there. So my nurse comes in and I'm so obviously just a shaken and terrified mess. She's like - talk to me. I told her I couldn't get cathed again. I was surprised at how I'd lost control of myself when they did it the second time. She told me that if I couldn't pee in the 6 hours that they would have to just go with installing a full cath because cathing me too many times was becoming it's own problem. Freaked me out. She told me I had to figure out some way to acceptance - that it would help me if I could. Help to at least calm me down and steel myself. I spent that 6 hours with the same mantra of feel the flow. I would imagine rivers, water moving, trying to make myself feel like water. I kept trying to move my pelvis in different ways. I couldn't feel a lot of what was even happening down in that area because I was on some pretty powerful pain meds, so it was difficult to figure out what magic button to push, which muscles to constrict or relax. I was moving blind, pleading with my body to release. Suddenly my 20 minute warning came. Back to the bathroom. It took 19 minutes of that 20, but finally, one of the greatest reliefs of my entire existence...I peed! OMG I PEED! I celebrated like it was the greatest achievement I would ever have. Relief flooded me. No full catheter. I called my nurse in immediately and was in tears as I told her and we celebrated together. It was such a good pee party.

My second problem after surgery is that my veins were failing. I was still so dehydrated. There's a saline shortage in America right now. Usually I'd have been on a continuous saline drip via IV my entire stay. I only ever got 2 bags of it and only when it was the most dire. So . . . no fluid in the veins, veins thus were plain worn out. When they would inject anything into my IVs (there were all sorts of medications that were being flushed in all through the day) it would hurt. They had to go so slowly. But I had to get a blood transfusion. My red cell count had dipped past the point they were comfortable with, so we had to get that blood in. And it had to come in at a relatively high speed because it would eventually get too warm. I was very concerned that it would hurt my arm, because just two days earlier they tried an infusion of iron. It was that infusion that ruined the vein on my left arm. We get the blood started and I can tell immediately that eventually it will hurt. I just wanted to see how long I could bear it - hopefully I could just fight through it. Unfortunately that was not to be the case. It began to ache and then burn. I told them we had to stop. I'd had another IV placed in my right arm by the super special ultrasound tech phlebotomist (by the way, my favorite person in the world to have be good at their job is whatever phlebotomist is sticking me). The issue is that it just never really worked. We would use it for small injections, but it just didn't sit right. But we tried it. We get the right side hooked up to the machine and I'm waiting praying that the pain will be bearable enough to get the rest in. But the machine didn't like something about the situation and would refuse to send the drip down.

Shit. Faced with yet another IV placement. I called my nurse in and talked her through my thoughts. I was terrified. She told me they would get the ultrasound tech and that they would get it. She was so confident. I told her we had done that though already on the right arm and that particular IV NEVER worked. So why would it work this time? I told her I'd lost faith in my veins. They were failing. If the last ultrasound stick didn't work, why should I believe it will this time? She was so good to give me the space to talk through all this. She stayed so calm and nonjudgmental. And when I'd gotten my anxieties out, she just said you're gonna have to trust that this is going to work because it's what you need to get better. You know you need this blood, and you know that we have to get that IV placed to make that happen. I did know it. Of course I did. And of course I would tell them to do it and I just focused on being positive and having faith that it would work. I was plagued by concern about if I could maintain my composure during the process. I prayed that they would find a good vein quickly without much digging.

My nurse knew me so well by that point that she came in very prepared. She brought with her the ultrasound tech, and with brilliant foresight, another nurse whose only job was to hold my hand and give me encouragement through the process. It shouldn't be a big deal, right? But again - I'd been there so long. Through so many terrible things that were all so invasive. I was a withered, weak, shaking human who had reached breaking, and I was on the verge of breaking yet again.

And boy did I break. The ultrasound tech started in my left arm. She looked around for awhile. Finally found a spot she seemed confident with. My two nurses had my hands and were saying nice things to me, trying to keep my mind occupied. Tech goes for the stick and . . . keeps digging and digging at my jumping vein. I lost it. Just completely lost myself. I never have heard the sounds I made come out of me before. The uncontrollable moaning and crying from the depths of whatever sorrow that exists inside me that had been pent up over 45 years. My body contorted outside my control. I finally was able to at least get my back back against the bed. Both nurses were using their full weight to hold me down. I wailed. I wailed like a three month old baby wails, with a voice of a 45 year old man. It was a terrible, horrifying sound. I could hardly believe I could cry like that.

The tech had given up on the left arm at my pleading. So she moved to the right. My two nurses were trying to get me to breathe. I was heaving. My chest. Heaving as I cried. I couldn't gain control. But I focused on breathing. In through the nose, out through the mouth they said. I was on the verge of hyperventilating because of the huge gulps of air I would bring in. There was so much violence being reacted to by my physical body. I just kept breathing. In through the nose out through the mouth. It was something I could latch on to and focus on. The tech was underway on the right arm. Digging at a jumping vein, but I could tell she was close. I just kept listening to the nurses about breathing. Suddenly I felt the click. Connection. They quickly got the blood going while my two angel nurses tried to calm me. I was still uncontrollably crying, but breathing better. They suddenly asked about music. What's your favorite band? I blurted out Spoon. They laughed. I told them to grab my phone and I played Wild by Spoon - a song which had been one of those hugely inspiration songs I listened to a number of times on my knees in the shower to pump myself up after my previous surgery. And the world, still so wild, called to me / I was lost, I'd been kept on my knees. I would sing that with such conviction in the shower on my knees. The world was certainly calling me and I wanted back at it's wildness badly. The song helped. It played twice. By the second time I was just able to moan sing the chorus. It felt good. I knew I needed to change to Ladies and Gentlemen We Are Floating in Space. I told them to get me my phone. I get it going, turn it all the way up, and let the song wash over me as I continued to whimper as I slowly steadied my breathing. By the time the song started for the third time, I was ready to moan sing along. I sang over and over and over and over again the words All I want in life's a little bit of love / To take the pain away / Getting strong today / A giant step each day. I just kept singing. And they were so kind to let me. Over and over in a round. Finally after about 20 minutes I was breathing pretty normally. But it had broken me. I didn't know I could so completely lose control of myself. I was so shocked at the depth, at the tenor, the terror and suffering that were in those noises I had made.

I feel so good today. What felt like being in a torture camp for three weeks is over. I am whole and well. I literally and figuratively had dead parts of me cut away. Now I am left with a living whole. My body will heal from the damage done and because of how I broke, in that breaking were worlds and walls I had built up that needed to come down. The process and amount of pain it took to make that breakdown happen was so amazing to watch unfold. I now have the opportunity to rebuild in a healthier way. Healing is coming fast. I'm so proud of my body. Of the enormity that it can contain and hold. I'm so grateful for the miracle of it. I will do such a better job of showing that love to my body.

#personal

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swifty-fox · 10 months ago

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okay so I’m not going to go into any details here but I just finished “what comes after” and oh. my. god. you captured the feelings of the person on the other end perfectly.

for me it wasn’t anyone as close as a husband, and I wasn’t there to see it, but they texted me one evening and I swear I just knew. and I knew they were in a pretty bad place, but I don’t think anyone had realized just how bad, and I have so many mixed feelings about all of it? And you somehow managed to write that and make it so tragic and so beautiful and. I don’t even know what I’m trying to say here. I guess I just wanted to say thank you? Thank you for treating the subject so delicately and so fairly and thank you for adding the part about Curt and how he’s there to help and I know it’s “just” fanfiction, but I need you to know how much of an impact it had on me.

so. yeah. thank you. and I’m sorry to spring this on you just like this (if it makes you uncomfortable I’m so sorry! please don’t feel like you have to respond!), I swear I’m not saying any of this to make you feel bad for me or anything. my friend is in a much better place and everything is okay. call this the incoherent ramblings of a person who should’ve gone to bed hours ago now. thank you. thank you thank you thank you thank you <3

theres three experiences in my life I pulled from for this fic

my little brother has been to a psych ward three times in my life, two in the last two years. The second time (March 2023) he called me the day before in great spirits and laughing about a childhood memory. Next day I receive a call that He's going to the hospital, drugs were involved but nobody knew anything more because he's an adult. We heard no news, couldn't contact him for Three Days. We had no idea what happened or how bad things were.

In the aftermath my baby sister and I had to drive into the city to pick his car up and bring it to my parents. She's a freshman in college and was too young to really remember my brothers first time in (I was twenty and she was twelve) and so I had to be the older sibling and tell her to rely on me. To brace herself that this probably would not be the end of the storyline with his mental health issues and she had to make peace with it and to protect herself how she could while still being there for him. I had to put my shit aside for my her and my mom and my dad. Had to be Gale.

At the same time I was fresh off a devastating breakup. I reached out that night to the ex because I thought we were still friends and got brushed off. While driving to get that damn car all i wanted was what my brain thought was my ride or die support system to be there helping me through this. All i wanted was a Curt and I didn't have one. So i gave Gale what i needed via Curt. Someone to pick up the pieces.

My grandmother passed away due to complications from colon cancer in 2020. She came down with an infection that ate away her intestines to nothing in the span of a weekend. I sat on the phone with her six states away as she lay dying on her bathroom floor. My Grandma who was my best friend my namesake wordlessly crying in my ear from pain. And I just remember thinking nobody fucking gave me the instruction manual for this. I went to bed once the ambulance came, thinking she would be okay. And by the time I woke up she was gone. And I've worked my feelings of that out through a previous fic but I definitely reached back into that experience to remember that headspace

I've been on both ends. I almost ended my life several times last year and I'm really fuckin glad I didn't cause I am having so much fun with you guys

#suicide tw #death tw #not related to the suicide tag #swiftytalks #that is to say thank you anon it means the fucking WORLD my stuff resonates

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contentment-of-cats · 1 year ago

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On bed rotting, a day of rest, and an anniversary.

I can't remember the last time I voluntarily spent the day in bed. My grandmother, born in 1906 spoke of 'taking to bed' - something the energetic but sickly child I was could not understand unless one was ill. As I grew older, weekends became productive time - to study, do homework, write papers, maintain my living space, run errands. The cup of life ran over and drowned the calendar. No rest, or precious little of it even as my body began to fail under a diagnosis of fibromyalgia in 2007. I'd had viral meningitis in 2004, and my immune system never turned off.

Then there came the time when all I could do was rest, but it was miserable instead of restorative. Sickness, growing debility that I tried to deny and rationalize and bring to a doctor. Then hospitalization, tests and scans, diagnosis, preparation, and Stage 4a aggressive treatment. I came home and would sleep until I had to wake up and take Zofran, or in the really bad cases Ativan, or Clonazipine in order not to vomit myself into dehydration. After surgery, nothing but bed. Unable to lift anything heavier than a gallon of milk from November to April.

Today is second Monday in November, the anniversary of my big surgery, the removal of six feet of colon and intestines followed by a resection that literally gave me a new asshole. They removed my uterus and ovaries where the cancer had begun to spread. They re-sectioned my left ureter and bladder because the cancer was spreading there, too. They placed a uretal stent while I healed. I had an ileostomy done so my stitched-together innards could close. Finally, they removed 22 lymph nodes of which seven were found to be precancerous or cancerous. They say you forget the pain, and to an extent that is true. You forget the physical sensation, but you never forget waking up screaming, passing out, waking up again, and begging to die.

I know what a ten on the pain scale is like now. It's been revised up and up. Just when I thought I knew ten, I found out differently. My torso is marked by scars that look as if they were drawn in black Sharpie. I'm in remission, and far from wanting to be the busy, productive person I used to be, I find that I don't want to be anything. With my mother's death in the spring, the burden of daughterhood to a cluster b disordered woman, of shepherding her through dementia as I shepherded myself through cancer was lifted. I grieved the mother I wished for and she could sometimes be, but I was relieved that this stranger who came to wear my mother's body was finally gone. She could rest, and now so can I now that her energy has returned to the universe.

I am still working, but I am selfish now. My weekends are just for me. Despite being in remission, I don't know how many more I will have. That makes them precious. I cook, make jewelry, and 'watch telly' as Gran used to say. It was while I was rotting in bed on Sunday - my pre-Recession habit revived - that I came upon this interview in the Washington Post. Susan Gubar was a formative writer of my teen years, a time when the ERA failed because the male-dominated worldview (with a pushback spearheaded by 'traditional' women) didn't think we needed more rights than we already had, if anything they thought we had too many.

The Madwoman in the Attic, For Adult Users Only: The Dilemma of Violent Pornography, No Man's Land: The Place of the Woman Writer in the Twentieth Century : The War of the Words all ended up in my mother's shelves - she laid claim to my library when I moved out. With her death, I now get them back, plus more. My ten boxes of books donated in the first spate of Swedish Death Cleaning are nothing compared to my mother's hoard of books over her 80+ years of life. On top of that there are the books that she borrowed from me, that somehow also became hers.

Susan Gubar is a cancer patient in remission, and I have downloaded her two books on cancer and survivorship. Memoir of a Debulked Woman: Enduring Ovarian Cancer, and Reading and Writing Cancer: How Words Heal. I plan to rot in bed this pre-Thanksgiving weekend, and read. Also of note, her recent book Still Mad: American Women Writers and the Feminist Imagination. I'm delighted to find her all over again, a writer whose 1979 work spoke to me as much as Virginia Woolf's 'A Room of One's Own.'

Hey. Mom had my copy of that, too, dangit.

Perhaps I can get my library back. A snapshot of myself circa 1991. I know she borrowed my Bell Hooks and Audre Lorde. Angela Davis was someone Mom knew somehow and bought her books on principle. I read a lot of Second and Third Wave feminism, queer theory, psychology, sci-fi, fantasy, and comic books. My first copy of 'Our Bodies: Ourselves' - Mom had to buy that one for me, the bookstore owner refused to sell it to me despite my being female I was not a woman. My old D&D guides.

Perhaps my remission Sundays need to be spent rotting in bed, rediscovering the voracious reader I was all those years, before the busy-ness of life nibbled my time away.

It's a resolution, voted, and carried.

#cancer #remission #identity #rotting in bed #time well spent #stuff and death

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slickshoesareyoucrazy · 1 year ago

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Unprepared

It's been 7 weeks since A died. And while I am still crying every day, which is concerning me and J and our son and probably at least some of my coworkers at the library, I'm not actually feeling 'bad.' Not like the immediate aftermath, anyway. I can't say anything has gotten 'better.' I think I'm just more used to crying now, which I guess if you stand on your head to perspective shift, could be considered 'good.'

Anyway, nearly everyone I've spoken to about A on any level has mentioned how sudden and unexplained his death was, and how that somehow is expected in some way to be 'worse,' on some horrible gradated scale of Terrible when it comes to losing someone you love. It's another weight that slides the scale down the bad line further. 'So young,' and 'so sudden,' are things so many people have said to me in response to my grief, and I know they mean it to acknowledge how hard it must be to deal with and how much extra or at least different...sharper...the pain must be. Because I was unprepared for it.

There is some truth to that, I suppose. I am still actively grieving A every day. Part of that is definitely because I never expected to be grieving him. But I honestly was unprepared for the first horrible death I experienced in my life too.

I was 11 when my grandmother who really did most of my parenting...who while she was never listed as my legal guardian, is who truly raised me...died. She had colon cancer. She was 76. She was sick for over a year and in at home hospice for almost 6 months. Everyone else around me (all adults) knew she was dying. But no one ever told me. No one actually ever talked about the fact that she was dying. I thought she was just sick. Every other time anyone in my life was sick, they got better. Whenever I was sick, I got better. She wasn't in a hospital; she was at home. She still smiled at me; still hugged me every day; still cared about me more than anyone else did. No one said, 'Gramma is going to die soon.' Not even in a euphemistic, religion-loaded, 'soft,' way. I guess they thought that 11 year old me would be able to just know or deduce that she was dying...that I'd know what hospice was...without them ever saying anything. But I didn't know. So it was a terrible shock when it happened. Even though no one else was surprised at all, and in fact, several people were relieved, including my mom. She was tired of taking care of my Gramma after working all day.

I cried so much at that visitation, my mom told me I was embarrassing her, that I was too emotional, and didn't let me attend her funeral. That's when I learned to not cry in front of other people, to try and keep it quiet when I cried alone, to try and limit showing big feelings to anyone about anything.

That's all out the window now. I cry every day. I cry in public. I'm crying so much more and so much more often and in so much space that the people around me are unprepared for it. I'm unprepared for it. But maybe it's not 'worse.' Maybe I need to cry. Maybe I've always needed to cry and now I finally can and do and I'm starting not to care that I'm doing it. And maybe that's coming from being unprepared.

#grief #personal

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dropintomanga · 10 months ago

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To Strip the Flesh - A Powerful Story About Identity

"I don't want to die having given up. I don't want to drown in a puddle. I don't want to die looking like this. I want to die as a man."

I got a chance to finally read Oto Toda's acclaimed short story "To Strip the Flesh" on Transgender Visibility Day and it's a wonderful story not about gender identity, but trying to find your path with the help of compassionate understanding.

The story is about Chiaki Ogawa, an transgender individual born female who identifies themselves as male. Chiaki is currently a Youtuber whose main focus is butchering wild animals that his father hunts and does livestreams of the butchering for a living. Chiaki lives with their father and is happy with his job. However, his dad has colon cancer and wants Chiaki to get married as a normal female would as Chiaki's dead mother wanted it to be their final wish. Chiaki has always felt conflicted about his gender identity after learning about GID (gender identity disorder) during 6th grade. This tension becomes even heavier when a young Chiaki, trying to prove themselves in the wild, almost gets killed by his father in a forest when he was hunting a wild boar. The incident causes Chiaki to stop wanting to be a boy for the sake of his father as the latter blamed himself for his actions.

While I do think family is important and society has ruined the family dynamic, parents are often insecure and sometimes project their insecurities onto their children. We see Chiaki's father stick to gender norms about what a man does and a woman does. When Chiaki wanted to learn how to hunt, his father was adamant that only men hunt and never saw his child as what he wants to be. A parent, especially a single parent, wants to protect their child and not allow them to partake in activities that can cause them harm.

It also does not help that almost all parents do not understand anything to LGBTQ+ issues. And at the same time, a LGBTQ+ child has to be mindful that they may need the support/love of parents despite any discerning attitudes. Chiaki knew too well after his ordeal, but still walked away from his dad to find happiness once he had heard enough about marriage as a bride. And even if the parents do support them, the outside world isn't always kind.

Chiaki thankfully has one friend in the outside world, Takato. Takato helps film Chiaki's livestreams and tries to offer any kind of emotional support to Chiaki. He even takes the time to research GID when Chiaki decides to go to Thailand for gender surgery. Takato is worried about post-surgery side effects like despair and suicidal ideation. After Chiaki comes back from Thailand to begin his full transition to being a man, he recalls an experience back in middle school where Takato was there to help him. Chiaki was distraught over having a period and Takato gave him his pants to wear to avoid embarrassment in public.

The final part of the story is when Chiaki comes back to face his father, post-surgery. Chiaki was worried about see him cry again, but his father said he's not crying because Chiaki got what he wanted - surgery to become the man he always wanted to be. Chiaki's father wondered why he was obsessed with Chiaki being married as the path to happiness. He even goes on to say that children shouldn't focus on satisfying their parents. Chiaki is then granted a hunting rifle by his dad and the story ends with a confident Chiaki, who's become a full-time hunter like his father, in the wild and streamed on YouTube saying that he's in the market for a girlfriend before embarking on his next hunt.

When asked about the theme of To Strip the Flesh, Toda said in their own words "Don't succumb to your parents!" Try to find your own path. While your parents have good intentions at times, their words can often be a curse in disguise. I think about the role of family in the grand scheme of things. Often, family is about being there for your own family members and relatives. However, I sometimes wonder if we're forgetting that while direct family is important, it's also important to have a "family" of friends of sorts. That's what leads to stronger communities.

I feel that parents forget this because they are forced to make "schedules" and do "life hacks" that don't involve making time in getting to know their children. Active listening isn't on the agenda since it's not what modern life demands. It's also very difficult to do.

I also think a lot of mental health problems do come from parents who want their children to be outlets for their problems and/or be totally like them to prevent uncertainty. Adverse childhood experiences can involve family a great deal.

I'm glad that Chiaki has some great support in his father and Takato. Those two made a good amount of effort to try and understand where Chiaki was coming from. You don't have to be perfect, but at least try to be there for someone if they're a priority in your life.

It's okay to strip the flesh of our minds because addressing our own insecurities allows us to come to terms with who we are and what we want to be. I had to do this many times over the years. The flesh figuratively and literally does protect, but sometimes we need to rip it open to see what our hearts are desperately telling us. Deep down, we're all unique human beings that might be considered weird at times and that's okay. We're all trying our best to live our lives and we should be accepted for that. And as Toda's story highlights, I hope that we can realize this together.

#To Strip the Flesh #transgender visibility #manga #Oto Toda #mental health #gender identity #parenting #family #identity #self-discovery

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aetherspoon · 1 year ago

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Memories

Facebook memories are always an "interesting" thing to read through every so often.

Today it includes seven or eight years worth of travel trackers (this year's tracker will be this Sunday, for you travel tracker fans), conversations with friends, and me announcing my mother's impending death due to cancer.

It was four years ago when I found out she had stage four colon cancer; she actually found out for sure while I was flying down there, but had already known how severe it was prior to then and just didn't bother telling me.

I spent a bit under a week with her then, trying to cheer her up and make sense of a senseless situation. It was one of the most brutal beatings of mental health of my life though, seeing the eternally strong woman reduced to someone having delusions and bed-bound. I wasn't exactly in the greatest mental state before heading down there, but afterward I was labeled suicidal.

I couldn't return, on account of that. My mother knew that I wouldn't be returning, we had talked about it while I had a not-so-restful night sleeping in the chair by her hospital bed. I didn't mention the exact details in order to give her more peace of mind.

Within a month, she was gone. She had only been in hospice for two days.

Within two months, my partner had flown in from Norway for me and we had serious discussions about relocating to Norway.

Within three months, I started having major arguments with my previous employer. Arguments that, not too long later, led me to leave the company.

Within four months, the pandemic started hitting and lockdowns became common.

Within five months, I saw how the US handled things and knew I had to leave, if only for my own safety. The "debate" turned into a finalized decision to leave the US.

Within six months, I was booking flights every day to try and get my partner out of the country, temporarily costing me around 12000 USD (no, that's not a typo) in fares for cancelled flights just to get them home.

My world changed so dramatically in those six months that I don't even know how to describe it - "everything" changed, and covid wasn't even the most major part for me.

That posting was the start of a very bad year for me and the climax of the Decade of Hell known as my 30s.

I don't know where I'm going with this post, I just felt like I should make one.

I hope everyone enjoys the upcoming autumnal and winter holidays.

#personal #tw: death

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yournightowl · 2 years ago

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Your Nightowl #020

i thought that commenting “space is empty” under news reports about the half-percenters or the megs was a relatively recent phenomenon. Imagine my surprise to find references to it as far back as forty years ago. (°v°:)

Here’s the original* quote in full:

“There is no cure for cancer.

There are no flying cars.

There will be no revolution,

And space is terribly empty”

It’s more uh

Depressing? Than i expected? ╮(￣v￣)╭

Its modern use is all about plucky irreverence- dripping with spite, cynicism and a bit of schadenfreude. Some rich idiot starts talking about expanding to the stars, colonizing the moon, mining asteroids, and we all gang up on them in the comments, bluntly reminding them that there’s nothing out there for us.

No aliens, no robots, no rich mineral deposits, no untapped wealth.

(○ ｀ｰ´)○☆)ﾟoﾟ/

Space is empty. If we want to do anything, we have to do it here, on Earth, the only planet we’ve got and the only planet where anything meaningful is happening.

Every other rock orbiting a star is just

A rock, mostly.

And sometimes gas. ＼(º □ º l|l)/

i wonder how all those graffiti artists out there who love plastering those three words wherever they can would feel if they knew its origin. Emphasizing the “terribly” part is one thing, but the “no revolution part” is practically defeatist.

It’s not very CYBERPUNK to just give up on everything, is all i’m saying

So maybe its for the best that the most pessimistic parts of the mantra have been trimmed over time.

down to Earth,

your nightowl

PS- i think i found what could only be described as space-is-empty’s memetic ancestor:

“OK BOOMER”***

Or sometimes “ok doomer”

Doomer and Boomer refers to an older generation, which i’m guessing had to have been born sometime in the 1980s? OK just means you’re being completely dismissive of whatever they think or say. There might also have been some sort of dance component? └|∵┌| But i haven’t found any of the choreography.

*The actual original is from a book, but i can’t find the text. This is taken from a list of quotes from the movie adaptation.

#unfiction

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aristocraticvision · 2 years ago

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Chapter 349: Bad News

While he was grateful not to be forced to wait, Prince Stephen felt exposed and uncomfortable as he approached the front desk at Dr. Philson’s successful medical practice. Normally, the physician would have visited him at the palace, but Stephen had requested this meeting be held strictly confidential – only Bixby knew his true whereabouts this morning.

“Your royal highness,” the receptionist said, smiling. “Please follow me. Dr. Philson is ready to see you.”

“Thank you,” Stephen replied, turning to his security escort. “You can wait here, gentlemen.”

Philson’s office was just down the hall, and the doctor bowed next to his desk as Stephen entered.

“Please have a seat, your royal highness,” Dr. Philson said, motioning to a chair. “Will the princess not be joining us?”

“No,” Stephen said, settling into a chair. “I would prefer to keep this between us for now. I don’t want to worry her unnecessarily. Well? What did you find.”

“There are still several additional tests I’d like to run before making a final diagnosis, and ….”

“Damn it, doctor, stop beating around the bush!” Stephen snapped. “What did you find?”

“The scan detected a mass in your colon,” the doctor said, flatly. “It’s larger than I had expected – about two-and-a-half centimeters.”

“But I just had a colonoscopy three years ago,” Stephen said. “Dr. Bremner’s results showed no evidence of it at the time?”

“No, your royal highness,” Philson replied. “These types of tumors can be extremely difficult to detect during such a procedure. Many times, they appear only as tiny lesions that are easily missed.”

Stephen sagged.

“Then it’s likely cancer?” he asked.

“We can’t be positive of that yet,” Philson replied. “But I’m also seeing evidence of possible lesions on your liver and the adjacent lymph nodes, which is doubly concerning. I’d like to schedule a biopsy right away.”

“Very well,” Stephen said. “When?”

“I’ll reach out to Bixby personally to schedule, but as soon as possible,” the doctor replied. “I would encourage you to inform the princess, your royal highness. It will be important to have her support.”

“No,” Stephen said, rising. “Not until we know something definitive.”

“But your royal high ….”

“I said no, doctor,” Stephen replied, angrily. “I’ll be the one to decide when and how to involve my wife and family, do you understand? It is my decision alone.”

"Very well, your royal highness," Philson said.

CHAPTER 1 | BEGINNING OF PART 4 | PREV | NEXT

Continent of Oceana | History of Weston | History of Corwyn | History of Torenth | History of Allycia

#ts4 simblr #ts4 royalty #ts4 royal legacy #ts4 royal family #ts4 royal simblr #ts4 story #ts4 monarchy #principality of weston #Prince Stephen III of Weston #Chapter 349 #bad news #keeping it private #Dr. Mark Philson #oceana stories

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mill3nniumforc3 · 12 days ago

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2024: A Year in Review

Yes, hi, hello. Today is November 18th, and I'm getting a head start on this year's AYiR. While there haven't been any fancy schmancy trips this year, there's been... a lot.

So let's get started! It's January 23rd, and it took me this long to write it (mainly because I got very busy with work and stuff in December so I had no time to write it).

You don't have to read this if you don't want to. This is for me and my memories. If you want to read, enjoy!

January

2024 started off with me and Russell kissing at midnight. The best way to start a year.

Work was pretty stupid. Kathy couldn't make up her mind whether she wanted me to open, close, or work midday, nor was she vocal on whether or not she wanted me to be a lead. With Anna gone and Rebecca stepping down, I was a valid choice for the job.

Well, Heather was given one of the lead positions, so only one was left open.

January 27th, in addition to being my maternal grandpa's 92nd birthday (yay!), was also me and Russell's 6th anniversary. We saw Mean Girls and went to Olive Garden.

At work on January 28th, I had an order number 12718 (the day he asked me to be his girlfriend). I kept it and gave it to Russell, who put it on his computer.

January might have been chill, but 2024 has just begun...

February

I had to work on Super Bowl Sunday (lame!), but I bought a cookie cake from UGS's bakery that had a picture of Travis Kelce and Taylor Swift on it and the words "Go Taylor's Boyfriend" on it because I thought it was funny. It wasn't so funny when the Chiefs actually won though.

Honestly, I hated the Super Bowl as a whole. The game sucked, the halftime show was mid (I like Usher, but the show was very unmemorable. I had to Google who performed), and Taylor Swift did not need to be shown 11 times (that number provided by my coworker Sean, who placed a bet in how often she'd be shown and he was right on the money).

February 13th was my dad's birthday. I called him and talked to him for a little bit.

We didn't do much for Valentine's Day.

Not much else happened, except for when they closed the Sonic down the road from me. It was honestly about time, since the signs were taken down a long time ago and there was hardly ever anyone there.

March

The truth finally came out in March about the lead position... Kathy gave it to Jake. I felt a little cheated because Kathy made it seem like the position would be mine if I said the word. Kathy knew I found out before she could tell me (I found out from the bulletin board in the break room where it congratulated everyone who was recently promoted), but she tried to make it up to me by saying I was her first choice for in-charge when leads weren't available.

(FOR THE RECORD: I was never upset or angry with Jake. He absolutely had the right to put his hat in the ring for lead if he wanted it)

My paternal grandpa was diagnosed with colon cancer. I was devastated. He had surgery to remove to cancer and part of his colon, and he recovered well.

I requested my birthday off as a paid day off, and got it. That was good, since my parents were in town for my birthday.

Russell also gave me my birthday cake a day early. He made it himself, and I was very proud of him for trying since baking is more my thing than his. He made me my favorite: yellow cake with chocolate frosting.

April

April 1st was my 30th birthday! We woke up around 7:30am since we were going to spend the day in downtown Atlanta for my birthday. I woke up early enough to see myself "officially" turn 30. We picked up my parents from their hotel, got breakfast at Danny's Donuts (my favorite local donut shop), and made the drive to Atlanta. We went to The World of Coca-Cola, Georgia Aquarium (where we also got lunch), and Centennial Park. It was a lot of fun! Afterwards, we went to El Sombrero for dinner. Then we dropped my parents back off at their hotel and went home.

On April 4th, Russell found a lost dog while driving home from work. We took him to our vet to check for a microchip, but there was none. We then walked him around the neighborhood to see if anyone recognized him or was looking for him, but nobody knew him. We later got an answer when Renee (one of our nearby neighbors) said she saw a picture of him on the Ring app. His name was listed as Toby, so we called the lost dog by the name. When the dog responded to it, we asked Renee to reach out to the owners. The owners came to our house to get Toby, and mentioned that Toby traveled quite a bit since they don't live in the neighborhood. Toby was very happy to be reunited with his family, which was good because he seemed distressed when he was in our house.

The eclipse happened on April 8th. I didn't see it in its totality since it didn't eclipse that much in Georgia. Oh well.

And on April 9th, we got new technology for work. I was the only one who liked it and used it.

April 26th was my paternal grandma's 89th birthday. Very exciting!

We went to the Guardians vs Braves game on April 28th. I wore a Guardians shirt and Braves hat for the occasion since I love both teams. I was a little sad when the Guardians lost (by one point after 10 innings), but happy for the Braves too. After the game, we went to O'Charleys since there isn't one near us.

May

For Cinco de Mayo, I wanted to try my hand at making enchiladas instead of doing tacos. They turned out pretty good.

Russell's birthday was on May 16th. We got lunch at Taco Mac, then made the drive down to Fayetteville to go to Fun Spot Atlanta to ride Aire Force One. It was a very fun coaster. We played arcade games and rode go-karts there too. I then treated him to dinner at LongHorn (his favorite steakhouse). After dinner, we drove back home and I presented him with a cake I made him: French vanilla cake with vanilla frosting, just like he requested.

My sister gave birth to my niece on May 20th. Baby Groot was officially named Peyton, though I still call her Groot. At least I was actually notified with the family this time and didn't find out via Facebook like when Duncan was born. I'm still mad about that!

I was sooo happy when TFG was found guilty on all counts.

June

My mom's birthday was on June 2nd. I called and talked to her. I could tell she was hiding something from me, but I didn't ask...

Nor did I have to. My dad revealed on June 3rd that my grandma's cancer had returned and progressed to her bones. They were putting her on hospice care, but thought she'd be around for a few more months. I decided to book a trip to see her in July... well...

(TW: death) I was off work on June 12th. I was making lunch and Russell and I were having a silly argument about mayonnaise (I like Kraft, he likes Miracle Whip). As we were laughing about it, I got a text from my mom, telling me that my grandma passed away. I felt my facial expression change, and Russell knew something was wrong. The only thing I could think to say was, "Guess we didn't need to book that trip after all" before breaking down and crying. Russell held me and tried to comfort me, knowing nothing he could say would make any of it ok.

I ended up not making it to Ohio for the funeral. I felt like a shit person, but I thought for sure I'd be able to see my grandma alive one more time, so I used the room on my credit cards for that purpose. I would've rather seen her alive than dead.

In addition to losing my grandma, my job was losing the help of the fulfillment center. It was good so we could keep the fill rate up, but that meant everyone had to start pulling their weight to get orders fulfilled on time.

We bought a new couch from Rooms to Go. We'd been wanting a new one for a couple of years. We went with the ModularTwo Collection. My seat has the ability to raise the legs, recline back (though not much since it's right against the wall), and lift the head.

July

We didn't do anything for Independence Day because I had to work.

Our new couch was delivered on July 12th. It was an exciting day.

After work on July 13th, I celebrated the official start of my vacation week. We got dinner at a new local restaurant off the lake.

Tee also leased a new car- a blue Nissan Rogue. I was surprised she didn't buy the gray one she was leasing, but I liked the blue.

I woke up early on July 15th. Since we were taking a 5:30am flight, I wanted to make sure I slept that night. I checked into our flight online, made breakfast, and did my damnest to stay awake until 7pm-ish. I took a melatonin and laid down to get some sleep while Russell decided to drink energy drinks and pull an all-nighter.

Around 1:30am on July 16th, I woke up. I went downstairs to check on Russell, who was happily playing his game. We grabbed our suitcases, loaded them in the car, and left for the park n fly. We arrived around 3am, and we took the shuttle to the airport. We were so early that the United Airlines kiosks weren't on yet. Better to be early than late! At 3:30am, the kiosks turned on and the desk agents got into position. We got our tickets, checked in our bag, and made the walk through TSA, where we both got stopped because something was detected in both our left thighs. We blamed it on the calibration. We got to our gate and relaxed for a while. Soon, we boarded and took off to IAD. After we landed, I texted my mom that we made it to our layover, and she asked if we wanted to get breakfast when we got to CLE. Yes, of course! We did get breakfast sandwiches at Jersey Mikes to tide us over. There was a little train that took us to the concourse, and I thought it was cute. It was like a mini plane train! There was a lot of people waiting at our gate, so we sat on the floor, but we were called to board before long.

Once we landed in CLE, it took a long while to walk to baggage claim. My mom picked us up with Bridgid along for the ride. We got breakfast at Bob Evans, and then I requested to see Grandma. My mom drove to the cemetery, and found the lot. Since my mom was dealing with a sprained ankle she got on the Fourth of July, she didn't go to the grave with me, but Bridgid came. I said what I needed to say, and asked Bridgid some questions about the funeral. Once I felt more at peace, we went back to the car. We went to visit my maternal grandpa, but he wasn't home. We went to Moira's instead. Duncan was scared of me at first since he couldn't remember me, but once Moira told him I was his aunt, he warmed up to me and spent time with me. I got to meet Peyton, though I declined to hold her that day since we'd just been in three different airports. We had a group naptime in her house (Moira went upstairs with Duncan and Peyton for naps, while the rest of us napped in her living room). After nap time, we left so me and Russell could check into our hotel. Mom let us borrow her car for our visit. We got dinner at Swensons.

On July 17th, we got breakfast at Sheetz and made the trip to Cuyahoga Falls so Russell could see if anything changed from when we moved. Nothing really changed. We got lunch at O'Charleys then drove back to Cleveland, stopping at Walmart to get veggie burgers for the cookout we were having at Moira's house to celebrate our parents' anniversary. We swam in their new pool and had fun. Afterwards, Moira recommended we get ice cream at Brayson's, which I'd never had before. It was pretty good!

July 18th was more our relaxing day. We got breakfast at McDonald's and drove around my hometown to see if anything changed (there were a few changes, actually!). That evening, Russell got dinner with his friend Brad at a steakhouse he found, and I got dinner with my friend Ashlyn at B-Dubs. It was fun!

July 19th was supposed to be the day we went back home, but the Microsoft shutdown prevented us from going home that day. Before we went to the airport, we went to lunch with my parents and sisters at TGI Fridays, then me, Russell, my parents, and Bridgid went to see my paternal grandpa. We talked about Grandma, and he caught me looking in the kitchen. He asked if I was hungry, and I said I wasn't. Just looking at the magnets on the fridge, mainly the sad clown. Grandpa told me that the sad clown's name was Emmett Kelly, and told me all about how Grandma loved him. Aunt Beth came over while we were visiting, and she joined in the conversation, including that she found a statue of Mary that I'd apparently gifted Grandma when I was little. I have no memory of it. Aunt Beth asked if I wanted the statue, and I said I did (I did not tell her that I'm not as religious these days). I then asked Grandpa to take a picture with me, and Aunt Beth volunteered to take the pictures, including group pictures. We then went to the cemetery again to see Grandma, and I wanted to go one last place before the airport... Honey Hut. We got ice cream, and I excitedly watched Russell take his first bite since he hadn't tried it before. He said it was "ok," which I found blasphemous. We went to Moira's house to give Mom her car back since she was going to babysit Duncan and Peyton that evening. She took us to the airport, only to come back to get us since our flight was delayed until the next afternoon. American Airlines set us up with a reservation at Hotel RL, which was very outdated and it took 45 minutes to get a front desk agent to check us in, and gave us food vouchers, which we used at Red Robin. I was burgered out after that. So. Many. Veggie burgers.

We got up the next morning and got complimentary breakfast in the hotel. When we got downstairs, and considered ourselves lucky that we got a room. Every airline must've had the same idea to send people to Hotel RL, because there were people sleeping in the lobby. I wasn't feeling well that morning because I woke up at 5am to find out my period started (better late than never! I didn't actually think I was pregnant, but I knew it was in the realm of possibility), so I ate a bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch for breakfast. After breakfast, we went upstairs, packed up, and checked out. We hopped on the shuttle to the airport, checked in to our flight, and went through TSA. It went a lot quicker than I'd anticipated, since I was expecting the airport to be slammed with people trying to get on flights home. We got stopped in TSA because the metal detectors detected something on our left thighs. Again, nothing was there! It was very weird. There were a ton of people sitting at our gate, so we went to Starbucks, which was in a deserted part of the airport (I may or may not have joked about being in the backrooms of the airport). Starbucks was thankfully open, and as soon as I got my coffee, we went back to our gate and sat nearby. We were eventually called to board, and took off to CLT.

We arrived in CLT, and sat on the tarmac for, I shit you not, 45 minutes. The pilot kept apologizing for the delay and said he was waiting for an open gate. I got impatient because I needed to change my tampon, but I knew there was no chance a flight attendant would let me out of my seat for that purpose. On top of that, there were people who had connecting flights that were leaving soon, so I kept my complaining to a minimum. We finally got to a gate, and the pilot told us passengers to let people with the connecting flights leave first. Nobody listened except for me and Russell. When we got off the plane, we went straight to the bathroom (thankfully the tampon didn't make a mess). After the bathroom, we went to our gate, which was on the other side of the airport, and there was no plane train/shuttle, so we had to walk the whole way. We got lunch at La Madeleine Express, and thankfully, boarding the plane was easy! We got a little free upgrade on our flight, where we had extra leg room. That was really nice. The flight back was quick, though I kept jumping every time I felt the plane slow down because all I could picture was the plane plummeting a la Wile E. Coyote. Russell told me I watched too much TV. We got to ATL and went to baggage claim... only to find the luggage carousel was on a delay because someone's baby carseat jammed it. At that point, I just wanted to get home! I asked Russell if he wanted to go get the car and I'd stay to get our bag, but he insisted on us staying together. We eventually got our bag, hopped on the shuttle to our car, and was SO GLAD when we got to the car. We made our way home, picking up dinner on the way home.

Shortly after our trip, Russell was more-or-less fired from his job. He was given a last official day of July 31st, but he was receiving three months of severance pay plus benefits. It sucked, but given the direction of the company, I wasn't surprised.

August

While it was nice having Russell home every day, I knew he was low-key panicking about getting a job. He was mass applying everywhere and getting tons of interviews. Nothing stuck this month.

Tee's birthday was on August 18th. We went to Texas Roadhouse with the whole family (me, Russell, Tracy, Jacob, Cailen, and Damian). It was fun! Tracy even sneakily told the waitress that it was Tee's birthday, so she got put on the saddle and the attention of the restaurant.

August was otherwise a chill month. No major trips (except for Russell going to Charlotte with his friends for a weekend, but that has nothing to do with me), no big changes, nothing notable.

Oh wait, there was one thing: Heather stepped down as lead, and Paul took over. I wasn't even notified that the position opened up. Twas well, since I didn't want it.

September

September and October were both rough. Buckle up...

It started with my laptop's wifi chip biting the dust. It said I was connected, but no web browser worked. It was annoying.

On September 10th, I worked at early morning shift. I hate those, but Kathy was desperate. After I got off, I placed a mobile order for Chipotle and stopped at Best Buy to buy a wifi dongle (that's been working fine to this day). After I got home and ate my Chipotle, I started feeling off. I thought maybe I ate too much too fast and didn't think much of it.

The next day, we had a plumber come to our house to help us find a leak. The city had notified us previously that there was a continuous leak and that we needed to get it fixed. We thought maybe it was coming from our bathroom because my boyfriend saw a spot on our living room ceiling, but the plumber said she didn't think so after a quick inspection. She and my boyfriend walked around the house and found it: outside on our main line. It was going to be a pretty expensive fix, but the plumber offered a loan. Russell couldn't get it on his own, so we tried with me as a cosigner and it worked!

After the plumber left, Russell asked if I wanted to go get food. I said no, which caught Russell off-guard because I'm always hungry. He thought I was panicking over the loan, but I was feeling sick from the Chipotle. I ended up going upstairs to sleep for a while because I wasn't feeling good. It took a few days before I felt normal again.

On September 14th, I had a weird feeling to call my mom. I wasn't sure why. We talked about baseball and life in general. She mentioned Bridgid wasn't feeling good, so she took her to urgent care. I said I hoped Bridgid felt better soon...

(tw: medical) Early in the morning on September 15th, I got a text from my mom. Bridgid was on a ventilator because her O2 stats were in the 40s. I couldn't believe her asthma had gotten that out of control! While I felt confident that Bridgid would come off of it, it was still pretty scary knowing my sister was hooked up to it.

As predicted, Bridgid was able to come off the ventilator on September 19th. That was great news, especially since her birthday was coming up. I talked to Bridgid after work on September 20th. She wasn't able to talk to much and her voice was very hoarse and high pitched, but she talked about how she was feeling and how she had no memory of even going to the hospital.

I called Bridgid on her birthday on September 23rd, but got no answer. I presumed she was resting and left her a message.

Around here, I asked Kathy if Caleb was ok. She caught off-guard because Caleb and I don't like each other, but I was genuinely worried because he went from being consistent with attendance to basically falling off the face of the planet. I knew he was still considered an employee because his name was on the schedule, but no hours. Kathy assured me that he was ok, but he had a medical issue and would be back as soon as his doctor cleared him (I was told specifically what happened, but I won't be putting it here). I felt better knowing that he was ok.

We were placed under a tropical storm warning thanks to Hurricane Helene. We were originally forecasted to get put in the direct path, but the hurricane didn't turn until it traveled further north. Good for us, terrible for others!

On September 27th, Russell woke up early in the morning to hearing Tee talking on the phone. It was unusual for her to be talking to someone, so he went downstairs to see what was going on. On the way, he slipped down the stairs on his back, only to find Tee was talking to one of her coworkers who was nervous about driving in the tropical storm. He came back upstairs and we thought that was that. I also had to work on September 27th, but my schedule was changed to 11-7 instead of 9-5 because of the tropical storm.

(cw: medical for the next several paragraphs)

The next day, I noticed a strange rash on Russell's back. I thought it was bad carpet burn until I touched it. It was hard and hot! Russell thought maybe it was cystic acne, but I told him he needed to get it checked out. Tracy works for urgent care, so he had me take a picture and he sent it to her. She thought it was a fire ant bite. We'd been doing yard work because we needed to get a tree and bush removed for the new main pipeline to be installed, but I didn't think it was that.

On September 30th, Russell finally went to urgent care when the rash was radiating pain to his ear. The urgent care diagnosed it as cellulitis and gave him antibiotics. That evening, he started feeling mild chest pains. I showed concern because I don't play when it comes to chest pain, but he swore up and down that it was gas. I slept with one eye open that night.

October

On October 1st, I woke up to get ready for work, and Russell said the chest pains felt sharper. I put my foot down after that. I begged him to go to the ER, especially because the pain was accompanied by coughing and dry heaving. He finally agreed after I started crying. He insisted on driving himself because he was sure it wasn't cardiac, and I decided to go to work because I didn't want to be THAT person to call-out last minute. I told him to keep me updated, and that I'd drive to the hospital if things were emergent. When he told me the EKG and chest x-ray looked good, I felt better. He then got a chest CT, and he told me to call him during my lunch. I called him, and he told me he was staying overnight for observation (fine) and he got a brand new diabetes diagnosis. When I got off work, I called him to let him know I was on my way to visit him in the hospital, and he told me what caused the chest pain: he had two small pulmonary embolisms. When I got there, he was getting a heart ultrasound down to make absolutely sure it was ok, and the tech was nice to allow me to watch. I visited him for a while, and I cried when it was time to leave, even though I knew it was just for a little while. A nurse came in when I was crying, and I assured her that we were ok.

I slept like shit that night. Part of it was because I never sleep well when Russell isn't next to me, but the big issue was I was afraid. I fell asleep around 1am, but woke up at 3am having the worst panic attack I'd ever had in my life. My heart was racing, my left arm was tingling, and I was breathing rapidly. If my chest hurt, I'd probably think that I was having a heart attack. I couldn't calm down no matter what I did, and I knew the one thing that would've calmed me down was hearing Russell's voice. I didn't want to bother him at 3am though. I was awake when Tee got up to get ready for work, and I was grateful that I was off. I fell asleep again at some point, but not for long. My alarm went off at 7:30am, because the plumbers were finally coming over to replace the pipeline (it got delayed because of the tree and bush initially, then it got delayed again because of Hurricane Helene).

Russell called me around 8am to make sure I was awake, and I cried as soon as I answered. I told him about my fears, and he told me there was nothing to worry about: the PEs had dissipated and they were working to control his blood sugar. He called me about every hour to check on things. The plumber didn't arrive until 11am, but he worked quick to install the new pipeline. I was surprised the company only sent one person for the job! Tee came home as he was finishing up, and once he left, we went to visit Russell in the hospital for a while. The staff was optimistic that he'd be able to leave in a day or two, which was very reassuring for me. Russell mentioned all the people who had reached out to him, and I said, "Aww, look at all the people who care about you!" Russell started crying when he realized that there were so many people who cared that he was in the hospital, and I started crying because I'm an empathetic crier. The nurse from the previous night walked in and saw the two of us crying. She asked me if I cry a lot, and my response was, "Yes. Yes, I do. He started it this time though!" Russell admitted that he, indeed, started it, and the nurse laughed. I ended up missing The Masked Singer that evening, but that didn't matter to me as much as spending time with Russell.

Russell got to come home on October 3rd. I was very have him back home. We got his many prescriptions from Publix, which included insulin and blood thinners (hospital policy said he had to be on them for at least six months). The two of us worked together to make sure his cellulitis kept healing and his diabetes stayed in control. I slept like a baby that night, knowing he was back next to me.

Russell came home, and my paternal grandfather was admitted into the hospital because he potentially had a mini-stroke. He was discharged two days later with no sign of stroke on the MRI. Phew!

(end cw)

Before the hospital adventure, Russell got a new job, and his first official day was October 7th. I was very happy that he got himself a job, even though he wasn't making as much as he made at his previous job.

Russell was sad about limiting sweets, so I looked for good substitutes for him. I found keto brownie mix that had a low amount of carbs per serving, and bought them for him to try. I baked them for him, and noticed it didn't have the crusty part on top (which is his favorite part). He liked them a lot and requested for me to buy them whenever they're on sale (hint: I buy the groceries in the house).

Somewhere around here, Jake stepped down. I found out from Jake himself when I was asking him a question, and he told me he wasn't a lead anymore. I asked Kathy who Jake's replacement was, and she said nobody because she wanted someone to come in at 5am. She did imply she'd give me the job if I wanted to work earlier shifts, but I told her no thank you. The job went to Ethan 3 (we have 3 Ethans in our department).

Also, Caleb finally returned to work after being gone for two months. I was glad to see him back!

We watched the MLB postseason, and I was disappointed to watch Cleveland shit the bed against the Yankees. Damn you, Emmanuel Clase!

Moira's birthday was on October 27th. I called her and was expecting to leave a message like I had in the past, but she actually answered this time. We talked for a bit.

We voted early on Halloween. I bet you know who I voted for... (hint: not the Annoying Orange!)

On Halloween, me and Russell dressed as ketchup and mustard, respectively, and Lilli was dressed as a hot dog. It was cute! I took Lilli all around the neighborhood for people to see her, and so many people told her she looked so cute. I even got some candy (I'll never say no to free candy).

November

I kicked off November 1st by playing All I Want for Christmas is You by Mariah Carey.

We all know what happened on November 5th. I woke up around 6am on November 6th because I had a nightmare that the Annoying Orange won Georgia and Pennsylvania. Imagine my fucking shock as soon as I opened my phone to distract my brain smh. I went downstairs to drink some juice, and found Tee downstairs getting ready for work. I didn't want to talk about it. Russell found me passed out downstairs and asked why I was in the living room. I told him, and he told me to finish my juice and go back to bed.

Because I couldn't relax because I fucking knew that the Annoying Orange was going to fuck up the country, I baked so many muffins and brownies. Russell and Tee were less than pleased.

Also, Tee got a brand new diabetes diagnosis too.

Kingda Ka closed down at Six Flags Great Adventure. I was disappointed because I didn't get to ride it during my trip in June 2023. Hopefully El Toro doesn't close anytime soon...

Holiday season = weird hours. I worked all kinds of shifts. It was horrendous for my sleep schedule, but at least my paychecks looked nice...

November 25th was my paternal grandpa's 91st birthday. Yay!

Since our very first Thanksgiving, it's been tradition to get McDonald's breakfast together. To our surprise, our nearby McDonald's stores were closed! We got Dunkin instead. We watched the parade and dog show, and then it was time to start getting ready to cook Thanksgiving dinner (we were again meeting at Cailen's for dinner). I made my stuffing and mac and cheese, and I made a lot because they were expecting 15 people to show up. About half of that came, so doubling my recipes felt like a waste. At least it tasted good!

Fiona's birthday was also on Thanksgiving. I called her and talked to her for a while, and she lamented that nobody was hosting Thanksgiving dinner up there.

We went Black Friday shopping on November 29th. We got a quick breakfast at McDonald's, then we went to Bath & Body Works (my favorite store), PetSmart, Target, Kohl's, the mall, and Ollie's. I also bought Russell's Christmas present online: a dashcam.

December

I gave myself a paid long weekend in the beginning of December. I needed a little break after all that hard work before Thanksgiving.

Russell's work Christmas party was on December 6th. It was fun! I found a kitty in the brewery and wanted to take him home so bad. Russell said no.

On December 7th, we saw Wicked. I cried three times, especially at the ending. Russell couldn't believe I was crying, but the person sitting on the other side of me was in tears too.

December 8th and 9th were relaxing days.

Russell was losing a lot of weight since he started making changes to his lifestyle. I was very proud of him. He went from nearly 300 pounds to 250 in about two months. Even though him being fat didn't matter to me, he was looking healthier, and that meant a lot! Him being happy, healthy, and safe matters very much to me.

Lilli got her picture taken with Santa on December 15th. She wore a Christmas tree dress that I bought her.

We opened Christmas presents on Christmas Eve at Cailen's house. I had to work 7-3 on Christmas Eve, so we planned to meet around 6pm. Tracy asked us to buy pizza from Domino's, but every Domino's near us was closed. Her second choice was Papa John's, which was open. I didn't want Papa John's, so I ordered Pizza Hut instead. After we picked up the pizzas, we went to Cailen's. We ate the pizza, opened presents, and watched Eight Crazy Nights.

Christmas Day, we opened the presents we bought for each other (and that my mom bought for us). I didn't want anything big this year because having Russell alive was the best Christmas present of all. Russell got me Steelers gloves and a scarf and Ohio State jammies, Tee got me socks with Lilli and Lemmy's faces and a mug with Lemmy's face (that mug will never get used because I'm too afraid to wash off Lemmy's face), and my mom got me sparkly and fuzzy red Crocs (I'm not a big Crocs wearer, but I appreciated the sentiment). I told my mom I'd be happy with socks and underwear, but I'm glad she didn't actually buy me that to open in front of Tee (I don't care if Russell sees my underwear, on my body or not).

New Year's Eve... forget it. I was off on New Year's Eve, but had to be at work at 5am on New Year's Day. So unfair! I didn't get to kiss Russell at midnight, but I guess Russell kissed me on the forehead at midnight since he came upstairs around 11:45pm. Since 2024 was such a garbage year, I was glad that I didn't get to say goodbye to it. It deserved to go out the door with no farewell.

#my life #my year #2024

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ipomoeatempest · 2 months ago

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Tw: death/cancer rambling

It's been a little over two weeks since. I've been trying to write this for awhile; with multiple drafts.

But, my mom passed away on the 22nd of November due to stomach/colon cancer. She had just turned 72 at the beginning of the month.

Deaths have never affected me too harshly. But, I was worried in the weeks leading up to her death. As I had constantly researched her symptoms throughout her ordeal. So I knew it was potentially coming. But, I was fighting the tears that final week; when she went into hospice here at home.

And I was devastated when the nurse said she was on her last 24hrs. I rushed to wake up my brother so he could be awake to say goodbye. The nurse gave mom some morphine/lorazepam to relax her. And, about 2 hours later, and 15mins after the nurse left; she passed.

The hospice nurse mentioned to not blame her or the morphine; but that death sometimes follows quickly after it's administered. And, I don't blame her, or the morphine. I do feel guilty about it though. Logically, I understand how the morphine works. It specifically didn't kill her, and mom's vitals were already bad. So, I'm glad she wasn't in pain. But, I still feel like we killed her "will to live." In the time since. It just doesn't feel real; like she's on a vacation trip out of state. I do get waves of sadness here and there. But, my main concerns are my younger brother, and dad. We all seem to be treating it the same way. Sort of just continued on. Dad told us he also had waves of sadness, and if we needed to talk. That we could talk to him, or the hospice provided deacon/grief counselor. Mom's side of the family, and friends have been around, and reaching out as well. Dad's been cleaning out things, while I watch our dog. Sleeping on the couch with him, and taking him out. Mostly what I did before. But, more so. As our dog, Sammy; was always glued to mom's hip. And, my brother he's been focused on staying in touch with mom's side of the family, and helping with errands. More usual stuff, but we've all just been trying to keep busy. I think overall, right now. Instead of any big grief; I just feel guilt. Guilt that my brother who's 2 years, and 9 months younger me; got less time with mom than me by virtue of being younger. Guilt that we told dad to go a few feet away into the kitchen so he could take a break to eat while we watched mom. And, it appeared she passed while he wasn't directly by her side. Did I rob him of that final goodbye? Guilt at moving mom from the couch to the hospice bed. She didn't want to be in that bed. She didn't say it directly, but she was obviously afraid of it. Having to accept that laying there meant death. Guilt at not having my life together, and being what feels like such a burden. My family has done so much for me; it's unreal. Just guilt that she couldn't see my best self. Guilt at surviving in general. If I could've given her my years I would've.

I don't know.. I could ramble on. But, I need sleep. I just needed to get some words out finally.

#tw: death #tw: cancer #personal

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wandered-rose · 3 months ago

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𐙚 A few things I've realized after the passing of my uncle and attending my first funeral;

- I was already aware of him being diagnosed with colon cancer a few years back, I even visited him. Though I brushed it off, simply because a part of me for some reason really believed he was going to be okay. Idk I really thought he was going to make it and beat cancer bc to me he just seemed like that type of guy that can get through anything. Hope is what kills me, and I say that phrase for the millionth time in my life and this passing is ultimate proof of why that is. I had envisioned that he would live a long life, long to enough to see me succeed and to celebrate with. I had hoped last minute that he'd wake up and go back to normal and we could just simply take care of him even if he was handicapped and needed the utmost support for a couple more years, I'm sure we didn't care as long as he'd wake back up and come back to us. Hope had killed me and most likely everyone else bc it turned out to be false when he officially passed last month.

And of course I was wrong. I was so wrong. Every vision and downloads I got, I always saw and believed that he'd live way longer, up to those "elderly age". It doesn't matter, I was wrong bc things changed and that's how life is or I just misunderstood the topic of cancer, I don't know. I think I took time for granted.

- the next thing I realized; being alerted by family about his last hours to live, "go see him" they'd say, "say your goodbyes to him" they'd say. I was stunned, confused, angry because "what the actual fuck happened?" Was running throughout my mind. I mean he was FINE those couple months back, walking around and shit and all of a sudden he's not?? Nothing made sense and my sense of pride and honor was facing me, "see him, but if you see him you'd have to see the other trash family members". I swallowed my pride and pushed it aside to say my last words to him bc at the end of the day it's not about anyone else, it's just about him and what I have left to say.

I will never say what my last words were, that's for some other time. But know that I was honest and I never said goodbye, I didn't want to. I noticed that even when death was nearing, I still held slight resentment and bitterness towards him and I found that interesting bc "normal" people would just give up and forgive and forget shit.

- now one of the main things I realized;

Yes I've thought about death multiple times throughout my life, but I've never really experienced it fully until last month. You know I thought I could handle death bc I'm whatever about it when it comes to solely me? And with other people I do feel bad sometimes but I guess this time around it's different and I didn't know.

Though its been years since I've been around, seeing my uncle in a comatose state, needing the machine to breathe.. blood used to flow throughout his face, he used to be awake but now frail, withering away. It punctured my heart, I never knew how bad it could feel to see someone that was a big part of my childhood in that rotten position. I realized I cannot handle death when it comes to a loved one, I dont do well with it. I couldn't bare to see him like that. I don't think I could do this again with another.

- next; funerals are awkward, everyone is weird, a majority of the people that attend are fake, I absolutely hate temples and it's religious bullshit. All those metaphors some monk worker was trying to cook up made no sense.

- the second to last realization; I don't like cremation. To just simply throw a once lively person in there to burn to a crisp does not sit well with my soul, but I obviously understand this whole bullshit with cremation and burials. I absolutely get it, but it hurts. I didn't even plan on crying and yet everything spilled without my permission. I hate it.

- the last realization; I'm still angry. I'm not even sad, just plain fucking angry. Maybe the sadness will hit me later on in the middle of a sunny day when I thought I've moved on but still haven't.

I'm angry at everything. I blame alot of people for his passing. He passed too soon, it wasnt supposed to be his time. My anger runs deep, there's so many levels to this whole situation. This whole ordeal slightly scratched the surface. I don't know.

#Michelle's love letters

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lizzscore · 3 months ago

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Ive decided I am going to call my dad tomorrow. Does he deserve a phone call from me? I don't know. I am doing it for me, not for him. Learning that he may have cancer again has not been sitting well with me. I know we've been estranged, not for lack of me trying to be apart of his life, but if something were to happen to him I know it would kill me knowing I never reached out to him. Growing up, I was a daddy's girl. We were always close. He was always there for me and I always knew he'd be there for me. Then he met his current girlfriend, Brenda. I've known her my whole life bc she's been a friend of the family and we know their whole family, but quite honestly....I could never stand her. She's controlling, manipulative, and just fuckin lazy! My dad worked all the time and she'd always expect him to buy everything and pay for everything. Prior to my pawpaw and my dad's best friend, who i called my uncle, passing away, I dealt with her. My dad still called, we still seen each other. When they passed, he drifted away and then he started to go months without seeing or talking to me. If we talked it was bc I was the one calling him, but it always felt forced. So I stopped trying. When he got colon cancer I stuck by him and then once he was in remission, bam, incognito again. The only time he calls is to tell me about his appointments, if even then, and one time called to tell me about someone I don't even know dying....mind you we hadn't spoken in months. On my birthday one year he didn't even call or text me. It hurts, maybe it's my fault, maybe I don't deserve to have the relationship we once we had. I don't know. But I do know I'm gonna push back all the pain and hurt that he's caused me and call him. Wish me luck!

To add onto the already shit show that I'm dealing with in my family of my dad possibly having cancer again, my step grandmother having cancer and not doing well, my pawpaw not doing well, my mom has a bone infection from a surgery she had in June due to negligence from her doctor over the past few months. He ignored something on an x-ray that he'd seen and she ended up in the ER yesterday not being able to move her neck. My heart can't take anymore 💔 I feel like I'm spinning. I don't do well with this stuff. I don't know how to respond. I become disconnected from my emotions and I come off crass and almost uncaring...I guess it's just what I've always done to protect myself. All I want to do is run away!

I guess being a Dark Fallen Angel for Halloween was appropriate! 🖤

#fallen angel #cptsd vent #trauma #adult child #estranged #cancer

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uncleweed · 3 months ago

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Interview with Nanao Sakaki, poet and godfather of Japanese Hippies

by DC in Minami Izu (Southern Izu Peninsula), Japan, 1/16/04 --------written and posted on 6/04/04

to interviews Japan Stories See photo of Nanao at end of interview

Nanao Sakaki link page

Finding the Conch - the Japan story leading up to this story.

Here and Nanao

"O Jama shimasu," I apologized for being a bother, a standard expression one says when visiting in Japan. It's a little more literally true when one shows up unannounced to visit someone you haven't seen in more than a decade and who may not remember you standing there inside their home with a backpack and nowhere else to go. "Surprise," I said meekly.

"Good! good!" Nanao said in English, "I like surprises! Nothing happens here so we very much appreciate your bringing us a great surprise!" He uses a lot of exclamation marks when he talks which I'll omit as I find their excessive use on paper to be irritating.

Kenji stood by the door, letting me take care of myself. I announced my name to remind Nanao. I hoped he would remember it, but I knew he'd welcome anyone who walked through the door.

He repeated my name a few times with emphasis and throwing his head back as if to reminisce, "Yes, yes, a great Zen man comes to visit. You must stay and talk and drink." He looked pretty spry for eighty-one – that’s what Hiro and Nado had said his age was. A long-haired young man came down the packed dirt-floored hall and greeted Kenji and was introduced to me as Nakagawa-san. He got out four cups but Kenji begged out. I thanked him for his kindness, something I'd be doing a lot of for the next two weeks, and he was off.

Nanao asked how long had it been and I said I thought that the last time we'd met was at his trailer in the pine woods of Arroyo Seco, a hamlet at 9000 feet on the side of a mountain above Taos, New Mexico. That was more than twenty years past. I was on a late morning walk coming back from waterfall viewing with a long-red bearded friend from the early Tassajara days named Bob who worked at Dwayne Hopper's Western art gallery called the Buffalo Dancer and with Dwayne's brother who owned another gallery in Taos. I reminded Nanao he’d served the three of us green tea on a stump table with stump chairs and when I’d asked him what he was doing up there he’d said dramatically, "Some days I go to deep mountain to chant Buddhist sutra. Sometimes I visit peyote road man. Some days I wander around like a stupid fool."

"Do you still go to deep mountain to chant Buddhist sutra?" I asked noting his sinewy frame. He looked as if he’d still be hard to keep up with.

"Sometimes walk up hillside behind us," he said. "Always I'm a stupid fool."

We went behind a curtain to a former pig sty now with a wooden floor, wall hangings, a large low table, and an iron stove in front of which they insisted I take a cushion – the honored position. The warmth of the stove did a good job in countering the cold gusts that I assumed blew in only through openings between the boards on the wall - until I noticed later when I went outside to pee that there were rather large openings in the walls of some sections on the opposite side of the hallway – large enough for say, a pig to get through. I said it was sort of like the barn I'd moved into back home but even funkier. "We are barn people," said Nanao.

"How's Ryuho doing," he asked?

Ah, hippie monk Ryuho Yamada. I shook my head and said, "Oh, he has had cancer for some years now."

"Oh, that's too bad. What type?"

"Colon," I said. He didn't understand and I didn't know the word in Japanese so I said, "shiri" patting my butt. Nanao nodded and sighed.

I said that Clay and I had visited with Ryuho and his wife Mayumi in Berkeley the night before we left on our trip to Texas back in July. People were always taking care of Ryuho and for some reason they were ensconsed in a wonderful old redwood mansion in the hills. I'd thought he was in Carmel near Tassajara and intended to visit after our annual ten days stint as students at Tassajara, but there I learned he was back in the Bay Area so we drove back up to see him before continuing down south. I suspected this was my last chance to see him. And Clay's. Clay had met him before and found him intriguing. Ryuho was weak and thin, but in good spirits and had lived much longer than anyone expected, the result, he said, of all the years of physical and medicinal therapy and attention to diet. I told Nanao he was probably not with us any more though I hadn't received any word in emails. Nanao, Ryuho, and I had spent some time together in walking around San Francisco and we made vague comments about that.

There was shochu again and Nakagawa made us brown rice and vegetables which we ate with chopsticks he’d made from local wood. And Nanao and I talked about other people we'd known, including all those from the night before with Hiro.

Nanao asked if I ever saw his best American friend, Gary Snyder, and I said that we'd said hello when we bumped into each other and had spoken on the phone a few times over the years when I had some question he could answer about early California Zen history, but that was all. Nanao said Snyder had visited him the year before but that they’d taken no long hikes as they once did in the mountainous wilderness of California and Alaska. He asked about Richard Baker and I said he was teaching in his monastery in Crestone Colorado and in Germany about half and half, still going strong despite some health problems, and married to a young German princess.

"Oh, Baker Roshi married into royalty?" he asked.

"More like she married out of it."

"And how is Ryuho," he asked? It had been twenty minutes since we'd talked about that and we'd been drinking a little bit and I guessed it had slipped his mind.

"He has cancer, " I said. "He's had it a number of years."

"What type of cancer?" he said concerned.

"Shiri," I said, patting my butt.

After this had happened a few more times, Nakagawa looked up at Nanao and told him it was the fifth time we'd gone over this. Nanao wasn't fazed. "Kenbosho," he said. "I have kenbosho." I asked if that meant senility or Alzheimer's and he wasn't exactly sure. But he was quite cheerful about it.

"Ah, kenbosho is very good," he said. "No need to remember anything anyway. My mind is becoming more empty and free every day! This is a very good thing. I like kenbosho very much."

Nakagawa's comment did seem to work though because Nanao didn't ask about Ryuho again.

"Can you remember things further back pretty well," I asked?

"Little by little I forget everything, but I remember too much still."

"Well then," I said, "How about telling me the story of your life and let’s see how much you can remember. I interview people for the oral history of the early Zen Center times when Suzuki Roshi was alive. I don't have a tape recorder and I don't want to take notes but I'll remember what's of critical importance for future generations."

"Very well," he said, "the story of my life. Hmm. What is that? Let's see. In the beginning I was born a little innocent baby – in Kagoshima. And even though Kagoshima is on the south end of Kyushu which is the southernmost island of Japan – not counting Okinawa which is Japan that is not Japan. Even though it was so hot there in Kagoshima, it snowed quit a bit."

"It snowed in Kagoshima?"

"Yes, very great snow, very deep. And very gray."

"Oh," I said, realizing what he meant.

"The snow where I lived came from the mountain and not from the sky and I would play in it and breath it as a boy." He went on. "I have great respect for volcano and enjoy very much the volcanic snow. It is more pervasive than snow from sky which melts. Sometimes for weeks it was everywhere - all over the streets and cars and coming in the homes and stores. Very stubborn. It gets into your motors and ball point pens and underwear."

He went on. Even though he was not a bad student, at the age of twelve Nanao decided not to go to the next level of school and, as it was not uncommon for a young person to start a profession at that age, got a job as an office boy in the local department of education. There he learned to use the soroban which we call an abacus which is a Greek word. Wonder how that came to be? They still use these in Japan and they tend to win competitions over electronic calculators. Like nimble kids today with computer games, he soon was able to move the beads on that ancient Asian calculator with blurring speed. And he was accurate. In time he was auditing the finances of all the schools around Kagoshima. The local newspaper did an article on him. At sixteen he moved to Tokyo where he continued to do office and soroban work.

Then at seventeen it was time for Nanao to go into the military which all young men did at that age because Japan was engulfed by militarism – had been so increasingly since before he was born. All he knew was Japan and living in a society run by the army. He choose the navy which was the most progressive branch of the armed forces. He was already feeling inside the rise of anti-establishment sentiment and that was the best he could do. He asked to be assigned to radar because he was interested in science and had gathered that radar technicians got to learn a lot of science. His wish was granted.

It was 1939 and Japanese forces were mainly in China, Taiwan, and Korea, but before long they had attacked Pearl Harbor and invaded Malaysia and Indonesia. Nanao was stationed somewhere on the southern island of Kyushu where he had grown up. He would spend a great deal of time looking at radar screens with nothing much happening. but eventually America started to bomb them so his job became much more important and interesting. But still he’d get stir crazy in his concrete underground bunker just looking at that radar screen. So sometimes he’d take a break and go outside – even when they were being bombed. Actually, that was the easiest time to take a break because then he’d already told them what was coming and from where and everyone would be busy shooting antiaircraft guns or running for cover. If it was peaceful and sunny out, say the type of day that would be perfect for a picnic of seaweed and octopus, he’d have to be hunkered down in the bunker minding his screen. Japan had become terribly stretched toward the end of the war so his schedule was rather full, mainly consisting of being on duty and sleeping.

Most of the communication he had with others in those bunker hunkered days was electronic – voice or codes over wires – and people were busy dodging ordinance and having their world come to an end so no one paid much attention when he started growing a beard. He was mostly by himself looking at his screen, his beard growing and eventually becoming quite long. Not all Japanese men can grow long beards but some can, due possibly to an extra bit of Ainu blood (Ainu being the original and Caucasian inhabitants of Japan who are the hairiest people on earth).

One day Nanao went out to get some sunlight and stretch his legs amidst the crashing of bombs and cacophony of antiaircraft rounds and spraying of machine gun bullets from strafing planes, all of which he’d become accustomed to, when a small American fighter got so close to him that for the briefest moment he could see the face of the pilot and the pilot had a big red beard.

So there was Nanao with his long beard and the fighter pilot with his long beard zooming close by and they looked at each other. And then the pilot circled back around and swooped down even closer and they waved at each other and he flew off – the pilot, not Nanao. But he’d too be gone soon for the war was almost over.

I told Nanao that his story reminded me, except for all the bombs and bullets, of an experience that Clay and I had driving into Death Valley the previous February. It was ski week and I had taken him skiing, well actually snowboarding, at other times, but the slopes would be sort of busy then so we went to Death Valley which I love visit. On the way we pulled off and drove down a rocky road to a vast scenic view of the valley, not yet Death valley, below and the rocky sandy ridge way way beyond and then Death Valley beyond that – and lots of wide sky. An added bonus for guys like Clay and me of going to just about any desert in America is that there are air bases nearby and testing grounds and stuffed aliens and whatnot and on this particular day we could hear jets zooming over and as we stood there looking over this extremely expansive valley there was another one coming from the distance. Now the airplane that went by Nanao was a lot more threatening than the one approaching us, but ours was a fighter jet going at incredible speed. It went right over us and then, swooping off to our right, circled way way around down into the lowlands in the distance and then, returning upward across the mountain ridge before us veered back and dipped down into the valley to our left and it came right up where we were and almost seemed to hover within reach for a second. It was a rare experience of astounding power and we could almost see the pilot’s face but surely didn't as it happened so quickly and noisily. It was so amazing and the pilot was obviously playing with us. We waved.

After the war, Nanao returned to Tokyo and got a job in publishing and worked there for a year or so and then, realizing he didn’t like that sort of life, decided that he would rather live with the bums in Shinjuku. So he did. He just quit working and started living out on the street. He liked the people and the lifestyle there. He’d sit out on the sidewalk or in a park and watch people go by and write poetry. And he’d walk. He really got into walking and he walked and walked in the city and then he walked out of the city. With Tokyo that takes a while. He walked on to the next city and then to another and another. He kept it up for years and went all over Japan, even visited Okinawa and eventually found a small island that he liked for two reasons: it was almost uninhabited though people came to visit and it was volcanic. Its name was Suwanose and there he founded a commune and they built homes and farmed. I looked it up on the Internet and found it was near Kagoshima where he was born (though I'd thought he said it was near Okinawa). It has one of the most active volcanoes on earth. They stopped an airport from being built there to destroy the isolated natural beauty that the tourists in the planes would come in to see. That's the first thing I remember hearing about him back in the sixties before we'd met, and reading, I think, a poem he'd written about it - that he was the founder of a hippie commune on an island in the south of Japan and that they were trying to stop an airport from being built there.

Nanao’s reputation spread and in the sixties when Allen Ginsberg went to Kyoto to visit Gary Snyder, they were told they had to meet Nanao so they did and they all became fast friends and they invited him to go to America which he did. He spent about ten years in America – in San Francisco and New Mexico and in the mountains and desserts. A friend of mine who knows Nanao says that Nanao walked from New York to California and back and forth a number of times and up to Alaska and so forth. All the walking stories I've heard about Nanao seem to me to add up to more miles than one could cover in a lifetime. But whatever he's walked, it's been one whole heck of a lot.

Folks at the SF Zen Center got to know Nanao because he never had a place of his own or any money so one of the communal houses near Zen Center would take him in as an honored guest. But he just wrote poetry and philosophized and didn’t tend to do the dishes so, after a while, he’d be passed on to another Zen Center house or hippy commune. And he’d write poetry and publish books and go to events like be-ins and concerts. He didn't always get his way. Kyokes in Kyoto was working at an environmental center on Yoshida mountain by the Yoshida shrine on the West side of the city - the same place where landscaper and Nanao buddy Sogyu is now. They were running a little hostel there a few years ago at quite reasonable rates and Nanao showed up and wanted a room for free and thought his name would do for legal tender but she said he'd have to pay like everyone else so he went off and found somewhere else.

Nanao has visited the commune on Suwanose through the years and says there are still about ten families living there and farming beneath the volcano. He's traveled to Europe and to Asian countries other than Japan and the South Seas. He’s been back to America. He was married a couple of times and had many lovers through the years, has two sons in the northern island of Hokkaido now and one who says he’s Nanao’s son who’s in the Bay Area and who Nanao would be happy to meet. And he has a daughter in Seattle who was due to have twins before long. He plans to come visit in the spring of this year. Maybe his plane is landing now. Or maybe he walked.

I told him I remembered a poem he had years before given me a photocopy of that talked about how much environmental damage Japan had done to itself - cementing creeks all over, cementing the coastline. I had an image of the coast cemented but I said that I'd lived in Japan since then and came to realize that he was probably talking in that poem about all the tetrahedrons, or what we called tetrahedrons lining the beaches and stacked out in the water to prevent erosion. A tetrahedron is a three dimensional shape composed of four triangular faces, but somehow that came to be what we called large cement forms of any shape that were piled in the ocean - sometimes stretching straight out into the sea, sometimes running along with the coastline. They were everywhere on Japan's circumference. And so were cemented creeks and sides of rivers and dams in creeks and rivers. A nation with unquestioned engineers gone crazy we agreed. I told him that I'd long had the idea to create a coffee table book of this phenomena. There were many different shapes and configurations of the tetrahedrons. Some of the cement objects were like jacks - star shaped. Maybe some were even tetrahedron shaped. I asked him what the book should be called. We agreed on "The Way of Cement." So the idea had started with just having a coffee table book on the "tetrahedrons" along the coastline but had expanded into cemented creeks, damns, sidewalks, buildings - all the many impressive examples of how cement has been used in Japan.

Speaking of which means writing of books, Nanao has three poetry books listed on Amazon.com: Let's Eat Stars, Break the Mirror: the Poems of Nanao Sakaki (with illustrations by Gary Snyder)- out of print, and Real Play: Poetry and Drama (Tooth of Times)- out of print.He translated poems by Issa Kobayashi and that book is called Inch by Inch: 45 Poems by Issa (La Alameda). There's a book by Gary Lawless with many contributions from various people on Nanao called Nanao or Never: Nanao Sakaki Walks Earth A. I don't understand the "Earth A" part but the title gave me the idea for the title of this piece. These books are published by Blackberry except the two otherwise noted.

I gave Nanao a copy of To Shine One Corner of the World: Moments with Shunryu Suzuki and of course signed it. It's a good book to give foreigners because it's all little vignettes. I told him how I still interviewed people for the oral history of the Suzuki days and that I'd write up something on our conversation and put it on my web site. And I asked him if he'd ever met Suzuki.

Nanao said, "Yes. I met him two times. Both times were at the Zen Center on Page Street in San Francisco. The first time Richard Baker took me. He introduced us. I said 'hi' and he said 'hi.'

"In English?"

"Yes. Everyone else was speaking English and we could too. And hi is not so difficult English."

"Suzuki Roshi loved to say 'hi,'" I said. "He said it a lot. I think it always had a little bit of the Japanese 'hai' in it - you know, yes in Japanese. There was always a lot of hai yes and hi hello and they were mixed together and had a sort of positive 'gambate,' go-for-it, encouraging sort of feeling.

"Yes," he said, and repeated the word a few times. And then, "Hello - we will do it!"

"So you said 'hi' and then?"

"That's all. Just hi. It was enough. I could see his great spirit and he could see me. And the second time I met him was when he was dying. Gary Snyder took me and we visited him. And we had exactly the same conversation we'd had before. Just 'hi' and 'hi' and we bowed our heads a little."

"So you and Suzuki Roshi had two meetings over the years and the sum total of what you said to each other in both meetings was four words - actually, one word four times?"

"Yes. It was just right. I am so happy to have met him. He was a great teacher for America."

Finding the Conch - the Japan story leading up to this story.

#nanao sakaki #poet #beat #legend #japanese poet #beta poet

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