The Evidence Of Life

I know it's getting annoying for most of my readers...This constant diet of sadness from me. It annoys me, so I can only imagine how frustrated you must feel. But this is life. Real life. We are not living in a sitcom where all of the tragedy is eaten by the comedy and all is better after a couple of episodes. Real life is ugly, rarely played with finesse. Some things effect a person forever. That person is changed. I can't help but be changed. What a contrast between the man who was just hit by an SUV and saved to now. I have no excuse. I have nothing to say in my defense.

I always told my wife that I had this hunch that God was preparing me to go through something terrible. Maybe this is it. I certainly hope there is not even worse to come, because I don't believe I could take it. God is good. All the time. Life though can be bad sometimes. This is the reality of true life. We are not in the movies. We all don't get a happy ending while we are here in these bones, buried beneath this skin. Some of us never get what American media would suggest a happy ending. A few of my friends are finding this out right now. I have never expected it.

Little memories keep dominating my thoughts. 20 seconds of every minute of the day is devoted to Will. Today I was listening to my ipod and What A Day by Greg Laswell came on. This was the song that was playing as I watched the men in suits wheel a gurney with my brother wrapped in a white sheet on it into a big van. The line that was playing was, "What a way to say goodbye." I remember the irony of that moment: The way Gumby and I looked at each other and then back at him and knew things would never be the same for us. Christmas was ruined forever. Every time we would get together, we would be missing part of who we are. Everything we used to do, we could never do again. It would hurt too much. Will was never meant to fit into the back of a van. I can't believe they fit him into it. It was raining on Christmas in Michigan. Literally. All day long and it never stopped raining.

I have been trying so hard to say goodbye. I can't. I have no idea how to. How do you say goodbye to your own heart hanging from the garage rafters? I visit his niche, where his ashes are placed. I think about him. I look at his things that I have. I spend as much time as I can with his kids. I pray and pray that God would tell him things. I call his mother and spend time with his/my family. I sit in front of a statue at a church and weep. Nothing gives me goodbye. So I write things that bum people out. Because it is my only method of goodbye that I have that helps at all. Tomorrow I will regret writing this like today I regretted writing last night. Because it is embarrassing. It is my heart. Nights are miserable sometimes and cruel. Everything I love reminds me of him. Every memory of him reminds me of his sadness. Every memory of his sadness reminds me of the awful state of this world.

Another line in the Greg Laswell song says, "Bring on the evidence of my life." The words give me hope. He may have went to God quietly in the night by himself, but he left us with so much. His life impacted me for the entirety of my life. When you feel like you have nothing all your life, the things you have mean everything to you. Even the little things. A true friend is hard to find. A true friend would lose his life for you. Will was it. There was a time when I would not have made it without him. The evidence of his life is everywhere. The way his brother suffers now for something better. The way his mother pushes forward and worries so much for everyone else when you would expect her to fall apart. The way his father appreciates every little thing about Will: He wears just his shoe lace around his neck. He isn't hard to please. The way my son cries at least once a week because he can't understand why he can't see his uncle Will. The way his sister dedicates her life to his kids even though she knows it could end in heartache. These are the things Will would have done. This is the evidence of his life. This is who he has always been. Tell me of his selfishness and I will tell you of his selflessness. He was my friend: Right or wrong, I would defend him and vice versa.

So here it is 3 AM again and I sit alone at my computer, listening to music that makes it worse, with no idea how to press on, but I will, by the grace of God, I will.










Sing.
Migrate.


™Zombiehaven 2008. All ideas and photos are copyrighted under Zombiehaven. Anything used from this site, must have written permission.