Monday, March 14, 2016

Ramblings of a Day

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Christopher (left) and Nico having some BBQ.


March 15, 2016


I sit on the grass while I’m wearing shorts. I feel the blades of the green grass brush up against my exposed skin. It feels so alive to be sitting outside. I’m lucky to feel the breeze on my face and the warmth of the sun on my skin. My mind starts to ramble on and on about what this particular day represents.

I notice a bird on the power line. He is perched about 16 feet in the air. That bird doesn’t care about me. I’m too far away to bother its view and he isn’t worried if I will prey upon him. I’m not moving. I marvel at him just as he is marveling back at the world in which he has the best spot to view it.

A gust of wind blows which pushes the bird but he doesn’t move. His little talons grip as hard as he can as he titters back and forth. He survived the first winded wave. And he still gazes.

The sky is blue but the sun is slowly being swallowed by the horizon. The deep orange is drowning out the blue sky like an eraser, which will eventually erase the day into a pitch-black memory of another day gone by, but the light hasn't receded just yet for me. It's still mine to seize.

I sit here in the dwindling light and I pray. I pray to whom? I pray to what? I just pray to whatever, or, whoever, will listen. I’d pray to the bird if I thought he would listen and help me understand where I am, in this life. I wish I were as confident as that bird up there on that wire. Self assured, in his ability of flight he’d jump off that wire and fly off out of sight. He doesn’t have to pray. He just knows what he’s capable of without any thought and uses God’s gifts he was given in this life.

I sit here, in the grass; in the same spot where I sat the day my wife died and watch that bird intensely as I begin to contemplate where this day has brought me. Not just today but every year.  Year, after year, for the past four years I didn’t know how I would survive without my wife when she died four years ago. I couldn’t imagine my boys’ without a mother. In that moment, back then, in this spot, I rambled with thoughts of this day and I was afraid and felt so alone.

I didn’t have a 16-foot high view like my friendly bird. But I had to learn to look into the future blindly from the ground and seek out what I couldn't see. Not easy to do without that damn birds eye view. There had to be a future for my children and myself I just needed to find it and embrace it. I knew my boys needed their dad, to hold it together, but most of all, I needed to hold myself together.

There would be many days that ended with me sitting beneath a twilight sky and wonder to myself "how I survived the day, I just lived." I had to remind myself to learn. To get better. Which  meant getting better would equal strength and confidence. But it seemed not to matter how many times that I told myself "to be better" because I would just wind up failing. I just couldn't grasp the idea of healing  But through trial and error I came to the conclusion that it isn't just telling yourself that things will get better. I had to realize, just like my friend, the bird, I needed to just let go of the wire and fly, be free, and trust my God-given-gifts that my ability to survive would kick in  and take flight. And through my strength of flying I would exercise my body and mind eventually I would get better.


I sit here in my spot, on the grass, four years to the day of one of my worst days as a random thought kicks in reminding me that I can get better if I tried. I just needed to trust myself. Even if these thoughts are just rambling onward there was a path to get better I just had to see it without the benefit of a 16-foot power line.  I longed to be free. Free like that bird.  



Captain Imperfecto enjoying some water, Red Bull and a gum a random stranger bought for him.



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