Archive | October, 2019

My Dear Sweet Boys

29 Oct


WARNING: Suicide triggers. In the U.S., contact the National Suicide Hotline at 1-800-273-8255 (available 24 hours a day) or text HOME to 741741. For other countries, call your local emergency line.

My dear sweet boy. Boys.

I wish I had known your pain, taken it as my own.

I’ve had that pain too, and at times there is no salve.

People who’ve never felt our pain think we’re selfish;

When in reality we’re self-less.

When the darkness alights, no luminaries guide, no liquids extinguish

That sorrow.

I wish I had known your pain.

Missing Mom

7 Oct


This is the first year since 2014 that I don’t absolutely hate October.

October, my birth month, used to be my favorite month. This was true whether I lived in California, New Jersey, or anywhere in-between. It didn’t matter if I was turning 8 that month or 48; October was what it was all about.

Then my Mom died October 19, 2014. Suddenly October didn’t have the same appeal.

This is the first year I haven’t re-created all the events from the time she first went into the hospital on September 21 until she died in hospice on October 19.

I think I’ve felt that by not remembering all those days I was somehow dishonoring her.

Now I believe re-living all those memories is not what she would want.

She’d want me to remember how when we’d go into New York City from my grandparents’ house on Long Island, she’d stop on the busy sidewalk and stare up at the closest building. Soon there would be a crowd gathered, all looking up, and Mom would swoosh us away with her, leaving the crowd behind, still gaping upward.

She’d want me to remember how when I bought my first pair of spikes, she was so excited because she thought I was finally becoming somewhat feminine. Imagine her surprise when I pulled a pair of softball spikes out of the bag.

She’d want me to remember the childhood days of “Sing Along with Mitch Miller,” when Mom’s beautiful alto voice led us.

She’d want me to remember how she lived, not how she died.

This is how I choose to honor her on the soon to be 5th anniversary of her death. I could say she passed, she got her angel wings, she’s with her holy Father, etc., but she died. That still feels fairly fresh. I suppose it always will.

Sometimes when a loved one dies, the survivors are told to “stay strong.” I always thought this was bullshit. Grieve how you need to grieve. We all grieve differently and at different paces. As a wise acquaintance once told me, there’s a difference between hard and impossible. It is hard to get along without a loved one, but it is not impossible.

It never gets better, but it does get different.

I suppose perhaps one day I’ll be able to write about her without crying, but today is not that day.

I love you Mom.

Spring Training Online

Your Complete Guide to Spring Training 2022 in Florida's Grapefruit League and Arizona's Cactus League, with schedules, rosters, and ballpark guides

Brian McLaren

The intersection of dogma and reality.

Matthew Paul Turner

The intersection of dogma and reality.

The Sweet Bi and Bi

musings of a bisexual christian

Dan J. Brennan

The intersection of dogma and reality.

%d bloggers like this: