...

i still wait to hear his voice on the other end of the phone. i wonder if that will ever stop.

his last song...

it's the first sunny day in a month and i'm sitting out back trying to hide in the shade.  but thats not really what i came here to talk about... *sigh*

he went out in a blaze of glory, or at least thats how i imagine he wanted it to appear.  i've come to understand he simply went out as a junkie.  stomach full of pills, with the leftovers lining the hems of his pockets.  he was a coward who couldn't face life, or maybe he just knew something the rest of us didn't.  

there was no note to help the ones he left behind to understand.  he just called everyone he ever loved, one last time, to say his own kind of good-bye.  he saved his mom for last and with an, "i love you" and "you've been the best mom in the world", the line went dead and his voice silent to our ears forever...

with that he drove to the home he had shared with his wife and kids for the past seven years, the one she had recently kicked him out of after having had enough.  he then rammed her mom's car with his van, pushing it down the hill in front, making sure it hit the tree at the bottom and landed in the ditch.  from there he pulled around the right of the house, where she watched helplessly from the kitchen window, desperately clinging the newborn baby to her stomach with one hand, the other hand on the phone dialing 911.  she was sure he was headed for the propane tanks on the other side of the house...but he never quite made it that far.  the dispatcher told her to lock herself some place safe and wait.  and she waited and she waited, there was no explosion, there was no sound other than the terrified raged breathing coming out of her own mouth.  and then the sirens finally came.  police ascended the hill in the back, guns drawn, to where the van had come to rest, door left open...but they were too late and he was already gone.  he killed himself under the willow tree that they had been married under, shot himself with the colt 45 he had given her as a wedding present.  the one he had pawned for pills, the one his dad retrieved from the pawn shop, the one he had broken into his dad's house to steal earlier in the day...

filson called the house later that afternoon.  as soon as i heard his voice i knew something was wrong, something was terribly wrong.  even after filson told me he had shot himself i asked, "well is he ok, where is he?"  i made him tell me that he was gone.

what he left behind was a wife who will always wonder if she could have saved his life had she decided not to continue with the divorce after the baby was born.  the mother of his children; a five and a half year old son and a daughter who was less than a week old, raising them alone and having to decide what to tell them about who their father once was.  he left a mom and a step-dad that knew who he was and loved him despite himself.  a dad who continues to live in denial.  and he left his friends, who will always have unanswered questions and will wonder if we could have changed things if we had said something different, whose lives will be a little bit emptier because of his absence.  

she told me later what she saw as she watched him out the kitchen window, "he looked just like himself...stone cold face, glasses on, hat pulled down, looking straight ahead, cigarette blazing in his mouth.  he knew where he was going..."  as she described the scene i could picture him in my head, clear as day.  i could hear his voice in my ears when he used to call and say, "hey lyza jane, it's nappy".  as if i could have ever mistaken that slow southeastern ohio drawl.  i remember, sitting in her kitchen as she told me this story and wondering what was playing on the radio as he drove to his final destination...what had he chosen to end the soundtrack to his life?  a little willie nelson, maybe some johnny cash, or perhaps it was donovan singing, "superman or green lantern ain't got nothin' on me..."

i loved him like a brother...and i will miss him forever...

and then i felt it in my heart.

"i've been thinking about that..." i began to say as he abruptly cut me off, "that's not yours to think about anymore."

and i knew he was right. yet i still found it all so sad to hear out loud.

merry christmas...

world AIDS day

finally!

it's been hanging on by a tiny shred for the last two weeks or so. everyday i've been asking her if i could just pull it out already and everyday she yells, "no, it'll hurt mommy!" it has become a playful ritual when i pick her up after work that seemingly ends with that tooth remaining in her mouth for another day. but today she showed one of her teachers her loose tooth and wiggled it with pride. she wiggled it so much she almost knocked it out but then stopped in fear of the pain that might follow despite the reassurance from everyone around her that it would only hurt for a minute.

i picked her up today and the ritual ensued, only today it ended a little differently. "maybe i could just bite into an apple and it will come out on it's own?" ok, i can work with that! so after much gnawing and nibbling with her side teeth, apple juice running down her chin and cheeks, she finally found the strength in the moment to go for it...i was in the kitchen when she came running with tooth in hand, "mommy, i lost my first tooth! i lost my first tooth! can you believe it?! oh my god, i lost my first tooth. oh my god i lost my first tooth. this is amazing! the tooth fairy is going to be soooo excited to see this!"


yeah, pretty much the best thing since the first day of kindergarten!