The prompt for #JusJoJan and Stream of Consciousness Saturday is: “art.” Talk about something that’s hanging on your wall. Add a picture, if you’d like. If you have no art on your walls, talk about something in a museum. Have fun!
Something hanging on my wall
There are many items that adorn the
walls around me as I compose this post. I really can’t single one out
for they share a connection. They all make me think of my father.
I am in my favorite place to write, the
finished basement of my mom’s house. Originally purchased as a summer
home, the small chalet was expanded and remodeled into a full house
by the time they retired up here in 2001. It went from “the summer
home”, to “my parents house”, and now that my dad has passed it
is known as “mom’s house.”
Nothing says more about my father than this house. He dedicated time and money he didn’t have to make it perfect. A house that his wife would be proud of (her opinions mattered on every detail in every room), that his kids could bring his grandchildren, and one that he could grow old in. The finished basement was his last accomplishment. I love the entire house, his touches are everywhere. But none so much as this room, it’s my favorite place to be.
As I look around the room the first thing I notice is the curio cabinet. He built it special for mom to put her amazing collection of curios. It is a one of a kind, like him.
My attention is then drawn to the
painting of his favorite view. It is a path in the woods, near here,
that is entirely covered by a perfectly formed canopy of tree
branches. In the summer, it is a cool respite from the heat. In the
fall, it is a panorama of colors. In the winter the bent,
snow-covered branches form a winter paradise. He took a photo of it
once and a friend painted it for him. What a wonderful gift.
Next there is a professional photo of
he and my mother. In happier times. His arm around her with a big,
genuine smile. He loved her so much he didn’t have to say “cheese”.
Her smile speaks volumes also. She doesn’t smile like that anymore.
Her smile now is forced, a result of loss, grief and a steadfast
resolve to not show how much pain she is hiding.
The next wall is a collage of dog
portraits. All spaniels, his favorite. In my life we had 2 Brittany
Springers and 3 Cockers. Like cars, he went with what works and
Spaniels never let him down.
The last thing I see is on the mantle.
A case containing a folded flag that was handed to me at his funeral,
by a sharply dressed soldier on behalf of a grateful nation. He never
talked about his military service, other than where he was stationed.
I will never know much of what he saw. But I know that he
volunteered, during the age of the Draft, and he wouldn’t imagine not
doing his part for the country he loved so dearly.
The rest of the room contains a lot of
cutesy décor, my mother’s touch. Porcelain and wood carved Mallards,
embroidery portraits of puppies and various stuffed versions of
woodland creatures adorn the room. Mom knows how to cutesy up
Still, in this room I just see Dad
everywhere. In the actual sense. I often sleep here, and many times I
have awoke to the sensation that he is in the room.
While unlikely, I wish he was. He completed this room soon before he died. He never got to grow old here, which was his goal. He worked so very hard his entire life and never got to enjoy the spoils. It’s really not fair, but he would be the first person to tell me that life never is. He had working man’s wisdom.
What I wouldn’t give to talk to him for just 5 more minutes. If not in this realm then in the next. Until that somehow happens, I have plenty of reminders. They’re hanging on the wall.
The prompt for JusJoJan 2019, January 11th is brought to you by M! Click here to find her last SoCS post and say hi while you’re there! M’s word for our prompt today is in SoCS style: “flew/flu/flue.” Use one, use them all, use them anywhere in your post or make one or all the theme of your post. Have fun!
The doctors stood over him his family sat helplessly by all they could do was wait it had been 2 days since he had last opened his eyes what they couldn’t see behind the closed lids and the motionless body was the battle raging within he had won many before but he had met a worthy opponent who had the upper hand the choke hold was on he was about to tap out a peace like no other washed over his body relaxation coursed through him the pain was gone he could see but not move he helplessly watched as his spirit materialized in a mystical wisp of smoke and spiraled up and out as if headed up a chimney flue when he suddenly heard a faint and faraway voice whispered through clasped hands Don’t leave us Dad I love you so much it was then that he found his fight gasped and inhaled with all of his resolve drew his fleeing soul back in trapped it in his lungs and slowly opened his eyes he saw before him a translucent eagle staring intently at him it lifted its gaze and flew away on sheer wings he had won again the death bastard defeated let the healing begin
Today’s prompt for JusJoJan 2019, January 10th is brought to you by Toortsie! Click here to find her last post and say hi while you’re there! Toortsie’s word for our prompt today is “sunrise.” Use it anywhere in your post or make it the theme of your post. Have fun!
As I have laid my head on my pillow each night, for as far back as I can remember, I had a veritable highlight reel of fuck-ups to keep me awake. Every thing that I’ve done in my life, from verbal faux pas’ to outright embarrassing episodes, played on repeat mode in my head, ensuring a bad nights sleep.
This is what happens when you are
wrapped tighter than a 24 hr Convenience store sandwich. You don’t
get in fights. You don’t need to when you’re way above the curve in
the pugilistic art of beating the shit out of yourself.
Eventually, as my illness caused my
Blood Pressure to escalate to dangerous levels, I was forced to pick
and choose what I would become aggravated about. I could no longer
afford to harbor resentments, to dwell on the past, and get too
caught up in the omnipresent stresses of Management. My job was
stressful and difficult so this was no small task. I achieved a
meteoric rise in my company and I had a lot of people wishing, and
sometimes trying to cause me to fail. I can now admit that I was a
bit paranoid. Not “shhh…the Gummint is watching me” paranoid,
but instead the “when I’m at a football game and the team is in the
huddle they’re talking about me” kind of paranoid. I had to learn
not to look behind me, but ahead.
I was pretty successful in dealing with the stressors in the present. I had learned to walk away and not engage unless I really needed to. I could say to myself “not worth it”, “not my circus, not my monkeys”. Not so much, however, when it came to reconciling my past. I continued to ruminate over past goofs and never allowed myself forgiveness.
Until recently. The stress thing has resolved itself. I’m now out of work and my only stressor is what I’m having for dinner this evening (I am downplaying it a bit but you get it). I have forgiven myself. Having been unburdened by disability the possibility of career or financial security I now have easy, attainable goals.
I want to maintain the wonderful relationship I have with my children. I want to get through dialysis without getting gravely ill (again) and get a new Kidney. I want to interact with my fellow man in a courteous, compassionate, and respectful manner. I want to always be looking up and around, not down at the ground, because I don’t want to miss a single thing to be grateful for.
Now, if I find myself tossing and turning all night, I have the benefit of looking at the skyline at dawn, which is the glory and the beauty of each new day. With every sunrise comes a new opportunity to make a day that is better than the one before.
When you don’t know how many days you actually have left, the beautiful glow of the rising sun means a whole lot more.
After missing my wife’s birthday she forcibly hinted that there had better be something in the driveway the next morning that goes 0-200 in mere seconds, she didn’t appreciate the bathroom scale at all.