Red, White and Blue

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July 6th, 2012

Among the crowds of people I stand to try and get a glimpse of the fireworks. I do not understand why everyone is on top of me. The fireworks go up, so all you have to do is simply lift your head. But then I understand, as I stand among the hoards of people, just like me, they’re just trying to see the lights, that will brighten the sky, our moment to be a kid again.

I stand elbow to elbow with these folks, listening to their conversations and antidotes. In a time of great despair, people seem to be optimistic. Just like me, they are just trying to find their place in a time that seems harder then years gone by. I hear their fears of hardships and talk of plenty of good times, vacations and dreams. Their voices getting caught up in what little air stream that gives us relief from the body heat, that we are producing in our closeness.

Their voices are carried off as their thoughts fade away, being absorbed by the trees that are near by. It’s nice to know there are people out there just trying to find their way in a world that doesn’t like to share her secrets. My boys are in their stroller mesmerized by the sparklers in front of us. They are oblivious to the things being said by the people around them, just as the people around my boys are oblivious to the people listening to them.

The heat begins to weigh on me, it’s getting harder to breath. The sweat begins to seep from my pores. I can feel it glide down my neck, joining my spine and sliding down to an area that’s just below the waist where it looks to escape.

I can not move. We are locked in, trying to get a good spot I sealed our fate and there is nothing I can do, there‘s no escape, I’ll have to wait and continue to listen to the voices around me until the first firework goes off. Captain Imperfecto did it again. In trying to get my boys a good look of the fireworks we got jammed in.

The sweat is getting heavier and spreads from my neck over the shoulder and down my arm until the salty water reaches my elbows where it drips to the street below. I just want to go, but I know, we can’t go anywhere.  The frustration kicks in, as the crowd inches closer, like a trash compactor squeezing the trash. The voices around me are getting louder. I can’t make anything out. It’s just loud screams and shouts, and there is no way out. The tension is building as my kids get restless and begin to rock back and forth in the stroller, trying to leave their carriage. Their cries joining the other voices that have no identity. The voices are like horns that get louder and louder pushing back harder against the breeze. The trees are overdosed with sound of the chatter, being over run by the sheer number of decibels the lingering air is bringing their way, they stop absorbing them, forcing the sound back, where it bounces around us, I feel trapped and under attack.

I close my eyes and remove my hat. I use my sleeve to wipe away the sweat that beads on my crown before it can drip down onto my face. My shirt is drenched with sweat. The noises are louder the people are closer, the mood feels distressing.

My heart pounds. I look around for another route an alternate direction to make my escape, but there is no way I’m getting out, I am here and going nowhere. I look at my watch anticipating the first launch of a rocket of any kind with the eagerness of a New Years Eve ball drop. The time is getting close I just want to go.  

“I pledge allegiance to the flag…” goes on my head. Like a prayer I said it to be patriotic, I did my part now let me out, I’ll see the fireworks next year.

It’s past nine o’clock and not one fired shot, I find myself ready to ring out, “Lets go, so I can go and get the hell out."

And then with a "bang" a shooting star rises into the air, where it explodes in to a glorious sight. My adrenaline subsides, as my kids and I, are fond of the glowing light. I revert my thoughts and think about how thankful I am to be standing here as an American. I thank God I stayed and joined in with the crowd as we all shout :

“Owwee awwww!” as the fieworks red glare, give color to the air, and we cheer for the red, white, and blue.



https://twitter.com/FusaCmee

Christopher Fusaro. The author of Captain Imperfecto.

© copyright 2012. All rights reserved.

Also see us at www.captainimperfecto.com

Anatomy of a Loss

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July 5, 2012

When you lose someone that you love and that you depend on, it feels like everything around you has just crashed and burned. It doesn't matter what is happening in the world because yours just got charred beyond recognition. You are forced to reprogram everything about you. Who you are. What your path in life was. The goals you had planned. Everything before the death of a loved one is scraped. 

Your mind wanders about aimlessness, and you just go over your mind time and time again about how you will be able to do it. Where do you go from here? You are afraid and bewildered because you are unsure what to do and who to turn to. You find that you question God and yourself and examine everything about your life. 

The doubts set in about yourself, and you want to return to the day before so badly just to reassure yourself that everything is okay. But you know you can't. You just close your eyes and pray to go back before that moment that changed your life and stopped destiny from ever happening.

The hyperventilating sets in, and anxiety ravages your body. Your legs grow weak without even knowing it until you stand and fall right on your face. But you don't care. You're where you want to be. On the ground. Rolled up in a ball, hoping and praying for this whole thing to be a nightmare. You want someone to shake you out of your dream so you can sigh in relief that it wasn't real. But then you realize it is real, and you get outraged.

When someone dies, it feels like you were just part of the biggest scam ever. You become so mad and enraged because you feel like you were cheated. That your children were cheated out of the best years. All you want to do is have a few more seconds back just to say "hi" or "I love you" just one last time if that is all that life would afford you. 

 

But alas, you can't. The reality is your situation is real, and there is nothing that is going to change it. So you try to heal. You try to feel better, but it's all a lie because you won't be, not now. But when?

The first days feel weird because everything is still the same. The smells are still there. Their possessions are unchanged. It looks and feels like they're on vacation. You lose weight because you forget to eat. You actually need to remember you're hungry. And when you do realize you haven't eaten, you don't feel like it because you aren't hungry. All the while, you lose twenty pounds in days without knowing where it went.

You dread the days leading up to the funeral. You listen to people tell you that "you will feel better once they are laid to rest." All you want to do is avoid the funeral at all costs. It keeps you up at night. The thought of burying someone close to you is unbearable. You realize that you have to do it, and you suck it up and do what you have to do. You just wish deep down you could sleep through it all. But you can't, and you are miserable. You try and cope by any means necessary before arriving at the place of worship.  Maybe you pop a Xanax or 2. 










                                                                                               

Your sleeping habits change. You go from long hours of not sleeping to intermittent periods when you do. You only get a good night's rest when your body and mind pass out from the lack of sleep you provided over the last several days. When you wake up, you feel revitalized, but that only lasts for a few seconds because your mind picks up right where it left off before you passed out. It's like you pressed pause only to resume play when you wake up. It feels like it never ends.

Reality sets in that you are alone. It is a hell of a thing when text message and phone calls from a loved one quits cold turkey. You realize that your situation isn't ending anytime soon. You fall deeper within yourself. Going beyond what you made you normal and wondering if you had passed the point of no return. That abyss is frightening but then you welcome the unknown depths. If I die, I die, mentality sets in. If my love one can die, really, how hard can death really be?  You aren't getting better, and you know it. And you simply don't care about anything. Every day you get up, you look for the purpose of starting your day. Your children, your pets, your faith. But in reality, you don't want to move from your self-pity.  You are right where you want to be.  In your own filth and anger.

You're still in shock. Everything still doesn't seem real. You still go about your daily life as if it never changed. You assume things will work themselves out and get better. You pretend that your loved one is still there. People tell you it will get better and that "God wouldn't give you anything you can't handle." or the classic, "Everything happens for a reason." or the "Let go and let God." (Whatever the hell that means). Trust me, no one knows what to say, and you know what? It's okay, Argh! All you really want is someone to tell you, "This fucking sucks, here's a gift card."  A laugh or 2 may come from somewhere but even the laughter tends to fade. 

You feel isolated and alone. No one comes around anymore because your family and friends do not want to be around your misery. They have their own lives and problems. The last thing they want to be is around your hell. You only shower or change your clothes every few weeks, maybe a month. The only time you shower or change your clothes is when you can smell the odor from your body. And hopefully, that was enough to make you. You eat everything and anything that's wrapped in plastic wrap and loaded with preservatives, gaining back your twenty pounds and then some. You feel trapped without real help, wishing you had help, but deep down, you don't give a shit or care anymore. You are angry at the world and everyone in your world who seems to have forgotten about.  Somehow, you manage to get by.  You may take to social media and post message of disgust to friends and family.  You know you are right to lash out but then you may come to your senses and quickly delete your posts. 

People move on in the months after your loss. They may see you along the way and say, "Hi." But you are truly alone. Well, it's how you feel anyway. You just don't care anymore about their approval or if they ask you, "Is everything okay?" Life is the same for them, and you're happy for those people because you don't want anyone to go through what you're going through. However, you want their help, you need their help, and you wish to God they would reach out. But then you're so deep in yourself that you wouldn't seek help from even your closest friends. It is what it is. Maybe I pushed them all away. But who cares? I didn't need them anyway. At least, that is what I tell myself.  I have my bottles of Jack, Grey Goose, Belvedere or Johnny Walker Black to keep me company. 

Finally, you are at the point where you don't give a shit! You don't care about anyone or anything. Punch me in the face and go about your business because I am too weak to defend myself, and I do not care enough to protect myself. I want the pain. I need the pain. Hurt me further. Beat me down more than I am. Pulverize my soul until the point I cannot catch my breath so I can hide forever. Just leave me the fuck alone because that is what you have been doing to begin this entire ordeal. You fight for clarity. You fight to regain who you were and ultimately find it. Because if you don't, then you'll just get left behind. Because, in the end, no one gives a shit about you more than you. By this point in your grieving and misery, you may have changed your appearance from one extreme to the other...

I was lucky to make it on the other side. My children needed me. I needed me, and my faith needed me to come back again to reality. But no matter how much I think I have beat this misery and pain. You only learn to cope because the pain will always be there somewhere, deep down within your heart and soul... and once and while it will rear its ugly face again. 


















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© Copyright 2012 - 2024 Captain Imperfecto, LLC. All rights reserved. This material may not be republished, rewritten, or redistributed without permission. Please contact me if you want to republish in film, television, or print. 

Christopher Fusaro. The author of Captain Imperfecto.

Also see us at www.captainimperfecto.com

Dare to Dream

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July 3rd, 2012

 

I'm in my fishbowl of life, gawking at the shadowy faces examining me through the glass encasement. The tapping on the tempered glass sends vibrations through the water, magnifying its big "bang," causing me to run around my bowl seeking shelter. There is nowhere to hide; there is more glass everywhere I turn. All four sides surround me. I take refuge in the center of my tank, hoping the sound will dissipate before it reaches me but to no avail. The shock waves are being sent through the fluid, moving me from side to side. I'm not the big fish in my solitude. Bigger fish are out there waiting to take advantage of the weaker ones like me. But I do my best to overcome adversity and get back to doing what I can to survive despite those predators. Like everyone else, I want to get by and live a happy life. Forgoing any hardship and pain that one encounters in a lifetime. To feel brand new again. 

I have learned throughout life that no one just gives it to you. You must search deep inside yourself and find the strength to pull yourself up and out, leaving your glass encasement behind.

Close your eyes. Believe you can do it. Feel your heartbeat, the blood pulsating through your veins, the adrenaline flowing through your fingertips, and get the nerves to fight through life.

The world is promised to no one, yet we wait for someone to give it to us. Believe in yourself, that you can do it, and get out of your confinement. Breathe new air and trust yourself to make the best decisions for you and your loved ones. And love those who otherwise do not love themselves because your love may be all they need to break through and move beyond the misery that they find themselves in.

The strain of life places us on a string and pulls on us every day. And every day, we pull back, trying to save what remains slack life and is willing to surrender. It's a tug-a-war between being sane and insanity, but all you have to do is be optimistic that things will be okay. You must realize that no matter what happens today, there is still life tomorrow, and you must learn to put the past behind you. I dare you to stop tugging on that rope and just place one foot in front of the other and trust yourself to walk out, letting go of the tie that binds you. The rope gives you a false sense of security that if you hold on tight, you won't go over the edge of unhappiness. If you're already at the edge, then it won't matter how hard you hold on; you're just going to get rope burned and fall over and not only be unhappy, but now you have bloody hands. Trust yourself. I dare you to believe in your abilities that YOU can make everything okay because no one cares more than you.

When you close your eyes at night, your mind is busy with life's troubles, preventing you from getting a good night's rest. Do your best to be positive in your heart. Know that you'll be okay as long as you keep breathing. Provide the oxygen that will sustain your cells and push your blood. Get lost in your subconscious and live between sleep and alertness. Allow the sensation of flying to set in and glide over the mountains and oceans. Launch yourself into the sky and fly among the birds. Spread your arms like wings and dive down towards the lakes, see the fish scatter like you're a bird of prey, enjoy the moment, and believe in your strength. Allow the wind to lift you up and guide you in the direction you want to go. Seek out your goals and dreams as you fly over them, then fall asleep.

Today is a new day. There is life. I dare you to use your wings to guide you into the direction you thought you could only dream about. And if you can't fly today, then live to fly another day. I dare you to live your dreams.

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Christopher Fusaro. The author of Captain Imperfecto.

© Copyright 2012- 2024 Captain Imperfecto, LLC. All rights reserved. This material may not be republished, rewritten or redistributed without permission.  Please contact if you would like to re-publish in film, television or print. 

Also see us at www.captainimperfecto.com

There's Always Time: No News Part VII

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July 2nd, 2012
  

*To read entire series click here

I wanted to tell this story because it was a pivotal loss we had between losing the twins and the birth of our oldest son, Nico. It was a trying time for her and I. That stretch of time tested everything our relationship was about and everything it was going to be. We were desperate to heal ourselves and try to replace the loss we suffered on that terrible October morning in 2006 when we suffered a double loss of twins the morning we were scheduled to give birth. Mimie was very strong but strength can only last so long.

 

I struggled with documenting what Mimie wrote in her private journal between privacy and the need to know, but I felt deep down that people should know her struggles, espeically women. Women should know that they aren't alone with their difficulties trying to concieve and that a lot of women, and couples, go through this.  I can write from memory, but Mimie would want people to know what happens from a woman's heart. Excerpts from her journal are unchanged and are true to her feelings.

-cpf

There's Always Time: No News Is Bad News

Part VII

 

It’s a story I’d share again over our breakfast on this day, as we talked about the potential of losing this pregnancy in its infancy. The idea that we had to struggle knowing that we would be excellent parents and the knowledge that their were others, like the girl with the twins, who didn’t appreciate that gift, seemed unfair. But who ever said life was...

After breakfast we went home. I went back to the computer and the message boards to read about similar problems and situations that Mimie and I were encountering during this nerverending battle. There was only one or two positive out comes for people who were having a miscarriage from what I was reading. It was very frustrating.

“Chris, you need to stay of those boards, really, what will be, will be.” Mimie sounded as if she was already resigned to the fact we were losing the baby.

I know what she said was true. I was just trying to keep my mind busy before the next appoinment. There is only so many movies to see or restaurants to go at. We would just have to struggle with our emotion until that Friday came. We could only do our best and go about our daily business.

I would work and deal with the bad guys on the mean streets of my city and Mimie would deal with forecasting the real estate market at the private bank she worked at. And so it went for six nights and seven days. I can’t image what she was thinking during this time. Knowing that there is someone inside of her but being unsure if it was growing as the weeks passed or has already died must of been heart wrenching in itself. The thought process that must have consumed her everyday, although she never mentioned it to me.

I did know going to work was very difficult for her because she felt that ever since she lost the twins everyone was looking at her, wondering, how difficult things were. Or how strong of a woman she was to continue on in her recovery. She didn’t want to be their focus of attention any longer. She never enjoyed that.

Work became more unbearable as the time went on and she was going on those web boards to deal with her thought process and look for answers as to what was going on inside of her. Even though she scoffed at the idea of being on the web boards, i would later find out through her journal she visted them to.

She would later document this in her journal:

“Sun, Apr 22, 2007 12:15 P.M.

I am at the cemetery w/my girls having come from the gym, I like the warmth of the sun on my face w/the breeze.

I’m online on my Blackberry doing research. I found that ‘if gestational dates are well established, absence of a gestational sac @ [at] weeks or fetal  heart beat @ [at] 7 weeks is very discouraging.’

Another web site showed 13,000 = 5 weeks, so maybe that’s what the doctor meant by ‘good.’?
Another site says a transvaginal U/S [ultra sound] s/b [should be] able to see @ [at] least a gestational sac once HCG levels are 1000-2000. The levels should not be used to date a pregnancy b/c [because] the # [numbers] vary so widely. I’m confused…”

So I know it has weighed heavily on her mind and to have to wait more days for the sonogram was just too much for her. But what could we do we were at the mercy of the doctors staff.

The day arrives and we go get our ultra sound. During the process we discover that the pregnancy isn’t progressing and that essentially there is nothing there but a sac. The stork had forgotten our bundle of joy. We began to doubt ourselves and the ability to have kids. The beating we were taking with the loss of the twins and now this was indescribable. We were putting too much pressure on ourselves. In hind sight  we should have healed our minds and bodies, but no one can truly understand unless they lost a child. And who in their right mind would want to expierence that. But now here we are losing three.

Mimie’s thoughts:

“Chris is taking tonight off we are dealing w/the latest news as best as we can. He’s already let most everyone know, via text msg, that things didn’t work out for us this pregnancy. I’m not feeling sorry for myself, but I’m damn tired of feeling this pain. I really wanted to go on w/a [with a] healthy pregnancy. This happening now is testing our strength. I don’t know how much strength I do have. All I know is that I continue to feel like I’m just going through the motions. The black cloud looms over me. I look @ [at] my minivan and feel pain. I feel pain every time I drive it…to have this additional pain to compound on top of what we continue to reel from is not fair…to feel that what you’re carrying inside you may or may not be viable is horrible.”

The doctor started to explain to us what had occurred. Been there done that- I thought. All the explanations in the world wasn’t going to make this better. No justification as to why its occurring. It just happens to women all the time he was mumbling. No reasoning about being young and having other opportunities, makes the pain go away. We just didn’t want to hear it. In fact we weren’t hearing it anymore. The doctor gave us a couple of options in which Mimie explained in her journal.

“Saturday, May 12, 2007 2:30

Here we go again. Tomorrow is Mother’s Day and no baby. The twins would be 7 months old now. I’m supposed to be 10 wks [weeks] pregnant but this pregnancy is a no-go. I am going thru the signs and symptoms of a pregnancy but its not viable. A few weeks ago we did hear a heartbeat of 138 bpm [beats per minute] then 1 week later it had disappeared. No heartbeat. I can’t seem to get off this rollercoaster ride of life… we met w/ Dr [left blank] who went over our options: D & C or miscarry on our own.”

To live through this nightmare is something that I wouldn’t wish on anyone.  I understand that there is heartaches in life. People try and fail to have a baby all the time. They even pay thousands of dollars for expert help. But we felt we had paid our debt and earned the right to have a child with the loss of our twins, without further complications. It doesn’t matter how selfish that sounds we earned it. We wanted it. Because when you lose a child you can't help but feel a little selfish. And now we would have to deal with a possible D and C or for a better word an abortion. The thought of that sent shockwaves through Mimie.

PART VIII SOON
 
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The Adventures of Captain Imperfecto/Born Again by Christopher P. Fusaro is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License.

Based on a work at christopherfusaro.blogspot.com.

It's a Beautiful Day

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July 1st, 2012

Life moves around me as I stare at my kids play among the other children in the water park. It's life in full effect. The little boys and little girls play without a care or worry in this world. God, I miss feeling that way. It's innocence at its best. At my age, all I can do is think back at my own life as a child and fondly remember when things were this easy. When the only worry I had was trying to stay out of summer school. But today, for these children, there isn't care in the world.

The sun is beating down on us relentlessly in this open playground. I’m only brought back to reality when the cool water splashes along my ankles from the water cannons that are mounted near by. The coolness shocking my internal system, as the water quenches my sun dried skin sending tingles up my leg. I revert my attention to the playing children that are have a blast and being kids, I  seek out my own, on the crowded splash pad. 

My eyes scan left to right feverishly looking for the bright orange shirt Christopher (my three year old son) is wearing. Found him! Just as I begin to look for Nico )My oldest at four); he runs up and spits water in Christopher’s face that he collected in his mouth, as the water cascaded down from a T shaped metal pole that is spurting water at a high rate of speed. I can’t help but laugh. About the only time I smile nowadays.

The parent seating area are benches set up like you would see in an arena. They surround the splash pad like seats around a tennis court. Above the seats is a little bit of shading, but if my skin could talk it would tell you it isn’t enough. Around us are tall wood panels, about four inches wide, stretching up high in the sky, like trees sprouting out of the concrete. The wood planks form a fortress, a labyrinth of sorts, that has tunnels, stairs and things that light up and make noises throughout its intimidating exterior. It’s not only a kids paradise. Parents can summon their inner child from within to play and tag along with their children. Which I gladly do when my sons beckon me. 

My glances go from my kids to the parents seated around me. I find myself examining them. Are they happy? What’s going on in their life? I know I am not the only one in pain. It comes to us all in one form or another. Whether it’s a loss of a spouse, loved one, dog or friend or sadly even a child. Other problems of financial means, unhappiness and depression. No one truly knows who the internal us is, but I sit and stare trying to figure out the ones before me, by piercing through their exterior and into their soul.

But in my quest for understanding, I realize one thing that we all have in common at this moment. We are all smiling. We are finding joy in our kids as our little ones splash and run around us. Right now, we are one in the same. We are parents.

I lean forward from my seat placing my elbows on my knees, my hands hovering between my legs. I rub them together and look up at the beautiful blue sky. I squint my eyes to try and squeeze some of the suns rays out as the beams pour into my corneas before I have to look away. The mist from the water refreshing me as it attaches itself to my body. The lingering mist floats in the air like snow on a winter day. As close to snow as I’ll ever get living here in Florida.

It’s a beautiful day today. It’s that kind of day that makes you miss the ones you love because you want them to share such a wonderful moment. But then I realize that in this moment my loved one is with me. All the things that are making me smile proves Mimie, the mother of my boys, my wife, is with us, surrounding us in this moment.

She is reaching down from the blue heavens up above, through the beams of the sun, providing warmth to my skin. She is the mist on my body cooling me down from a hot summer's day. She is the giggles that are swirling around her children as the laughter bounces off the walls around us. She is the love that they feel and the joy they are having as they frolic through the streams of water. She is the hydrogen in the droplets that is blessing her children, drenching them with love from head to toe. She has been here with them since we arrived. She is with her boys. She is alive and thriving in my children's life. Her life goes on because we go on,  for her.


https://twitter.com/FusaCmee

Christopher Fusaro. The author of Captain Imperfecto.

© copyright 2012. All rights reserved.

Also see us at www.captainimperfecto.com