October 17th, 2012
"Step right up, folks. Step right up and look at what we have here for you.
"That's right, a grieving widower right out of Florida. One ticket will get you inside, folks. Step right up, and you can watch him grieve and hear him cry; he'll make you laugh.
"It's a sight for the young and the young at heart. You won't be disappointed. Just a nickel for your thoughts and a penny for his."
In the arena of a three-ring circus, I am king. I put on an excellent show for those who decide to pony up their five cents and witness my life on the line. It's a sight to behold and well worth the money to watch me try to figure out what is happening in my world and my life.
The cable gets extended whenever I think I'm at the end of my high-wire act. I balance myself to further my journey, but my arms are tired of holding the balance beam that titters on the brink of crashing below from my failing arms. I look down for my safety net but do not see any comfort there, so I close my eyes and let go of free will.
As I free fall into nothingness, I am caught in mid-air by a flying trapeze artist, who makes sure I stick around a little longer in this spotlight. He sways me back and forth above the crowd, "Ohhhing and awwwing" from the sight. Without notice, he releases me, tossing me sideways towards what feels like infinity, until I'm caught again by his partner, who is hanging onto his fly bar while swinging nearby. He seemingly plucked me from the sky, catching me before I hit the ground.
I flip, and I flop all the while; the crowd gasps from the horror and excitement of the show. It's a circus, so the audience has to enjoy the thrills. My body extends down toward the ground while the man grips my ankles and swings me around until he releases me with precision into the barrel of a cannon.
I can feel my body slowly glide down the thick layers of the metal cylinder until my feet are firmly on the base. I sigh in relief as I get a breather. I'm hidden from the prying eyes of the ticket buyers, and I'm enjoying my brief relief. I just want to sleep. Because I'm protected from the noise, this hardened steel seals off like a force field.
BOOM!
I launch out, like a bullet from a gun, flying through the air, but, unlike my high wire act, there is no one there to catch me before my destruction, only a safety net to catch my mangled body. My face presses inward into the stretching net while my body presses deep inside like a pocket. I spring up and fall down into the net. This repeats over and over until the momentum slows and no longer moves. The popcorn and candy crowd stays silent until my body comes to rest.
"He's OK, folks!" A voice announces through the P.A., causing the crowd to erupt in a euphoric tone.
I am dazed and confused, but I wave to the masses, hoping they enjoy the show. Do they even wonder if I'm OK? But does that even matter? I feel so tired and all alone. I just wave to the masses and pretend I got my shit together while the people around me build the next act. They hurry before the crowd decides to go home. The people around me want to ensure the crowd gets its money's worth.
Happiness is the one thing I portray in the best way. Like the clowns humoring the crowd in their powdered make-up and fake huge smiles, I do what I must, even though I don't own a mask. I lighten the mood and fill the time with stupid antics that no one likes.
When high-wire acts fail to bring me down, I feel that some people want to continue their entertainment by throwing me inside a lion's cage. Are they disappointed that I am up to the challenge and I run around like the clowns? But this ain't no joke. I hold my desperation close to my chest, refusing to give anyone satisfaction by viewing my misery. I am almost out of steam and prepare myself to be eaten alive. After all, this seems to be what the crowd wants. I imagine the people shouting, "Shove your head in this lion's mouth and call it a day, will ya." They could be saying it because misery loves the company. But it does seem like the easiest way to get away from my current life, and what the hell, my death, and destruction are what the ticket buyers want to see anyway.
I can barely muster any more entertainment as I climb out of the cage unscathed. I am disappointed I survived it. I tip my hat to a standing ovation. It is hard to make it look this easy, but I aim to please you during my Three Ring Circus. This is a performance of a lifetime.
I'll put on a show for another day. Remember that a lot of this is only smoke and mirrors made to make things appear OK; however, my life is not. But people are happy when they see me this way because they realize that after all their neglect of me and my children. The cold shoulders they presented me and the lack of compassion they showed me have in no way destroyed me. It allows them to sleep better at night.
"Are you not entertained?"
https://twitter.com/FusaCmee
Chris never wld ask, never wld cross his mind, so I'm putting it out there, even at the risk of annoying him at 1st. Many of us have expressed wanting to lend a helping hand-the need so strong while trying to read his blog thu tears & a heavy heart. "How can I help this family even in just a small way?" We find asking ourselves. Most on here are creative, intelligent women who can move mountains-make things happen. Let's get him out of the circus of life-a short respite by using our contacts, resources, solutions. Have 49ers and/or Dolphins connections, airlines miles/hotel pts to donate, work for an airline/hotel chain, anything you can come up with, now's the time to help make a dream come true for this man who does for everyone else, has lost so much. Let’s give him the gift of a little glimmer of happiness this holiday, the 1st he's facing alone since the tragedy. Who's in??? Email: sandieontheweb@gmail.com
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