First they came

“First they came for the communists, and I did not speak out – because I was not a communist;
Then they came for the socialists, and I did not speak out – because I was not a socialist;
Then they came for the trade unionists, and I did not speak out – because I was not a trade unionist;
Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out – because I was not a Jew;
Then they came for me – and there was no one left to speak out for me.”

by Martin Niemöller

11,185 days

of mute silence holding

you inside of my heart

Putting aside the exhaustive

supplicatory screams

and night terrors reserved for

reticent confessions.

A halo of deleterious pain recognized

by members of the club no one

asked to join

 

i hear you calling for me in the store,

in the dark, in my head...

Saddle shoes crashing down the

hardwoods

little pink mittens attached to ribbons

     on the floorboards  

Silent Night Silent Chaotic Crowds

i hate hollow ho ho ho’s

uptown girl downtown bus rides

complete cessation from  

never letting you out of my sight,

out of my arms,

yet the reverent search

for an authentic angel

vacancy void vacuity

timorous chasms

each morning,

mourning,

knowing,

you will

be

another

day

further

from

me

 

08.25.2016




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The things our children’s father did that pissed me off

Happy Fathers Day, PawPaw xx

Happy Fathers Day, PawPaw xx

I’m trying to use some humor here. I loved my kid’s Dad with all my heart, even his faults. It made up all the pieces of his gracious heart and loving disposition. We laughed a lot.

The things our children’s father did that pissed me off:

Lover would take apart the boat, the jeep and parts of the house to remodel, restore and to repair, all at the same time. He was excellent at tearing stuff apart. His schedule to put things back together was not the same as my schedule.

Lover refused to call a contractor to make a household repair. In his defense, they always did a half assed job and he would end up doing it over himself. A fine example is the Hurricane Ike damage to the dining room ceiling that started to disintegrate on Christmas Eve.Hours before we had invited guests to arrive, a great talent, Lover artistically cut the mess out and restored it perfectly. That said, it took 9 months to finish laying the ceramic tile flooring through out the entire house.

Lover never took time to find something. He would just go out and purchase 10+ more! I am now the proud owner of 8 coolers, a guzillion grinding wheels, countless cans of spray paint (lots of the same colors), dozens of pairs of work gloves, tons of nails and screws and every girl’s dream – multiple gas cans and containers.

More is so much better than less. If Lover was sent to the grocery store with a short list, you can bet the farm he would return with 15 bags of salami’s, cheese, beer, hot peppers and a piece of meat I’d never heard of . When I’d ask where the list items were, he would tell me pastrami cost $7.95/pound and he forgot the list in the truck!

Though his pagers, cell phones, Bluetooth, etc., were usually attached to him with some kind of case or clip, Lover always failed to be able to locate them at 5:30am each morning when exiting the house. They were usually found underneath the seat in his truck. The truck keys were usually on the lost list when the panic attack started. One time the entire truck was stolen from a work site with the personal cell phone, checkbook, wallet with credit cards, pager, a very expensive loaded toolbox, 15 pair of Levi’s that had just been picked up from the cleaners and his Whataburger lunch. That was the last time I told him to keep all of his things in the truck where he could find them!

Lover was extremely experienced at driving on the Houston freeways, during rush hour, while talking on the phone, taking notes on his famous steno pad, smoking a cigarette, drinking coffee and steering with his knees as he swore out the window at some moron who had just cut him off. I sometimes was the witness to the “moron holler”. The kids wonder why I’m high strung and nervous!

Lover was very particular how his Levi 501’s had to be creased. When holding the jeans upside down, the side seams are matched from top to bottom with the pockets equal distance apart  from the center creases. I screwed up, before we were married, and didn’t fold and press the Levi’s to spec. I did it once. For over twenty years, Violet, at the dry cleaners on Eldridge Road, Sugar Land, Texas, became Lover’s Levi angel. She had those Levi’s starched, pressed and hanger folded to Lover’s exact requirements.

When the Sunday Houston Chronicle was left all over the ceramic tile floor, the room became a slippery health hazard

Too many times, one of the pickup trucks were overloaded. I’d be told, “Don’t worry about it. It will be okay. You worry too much”. We, at times, resembled the Beverly Hillbillies.

I worked from home during the majority of our marriage. If he was home, the rule was not to swear at the dogs while I was on a conference call. Harley, our dachshund, never failed to pee on the floor when Lover was home. He would step in it and proceed to swear in his beautiful booming voice as I was trying to wind down a million dollar commitment with 7 programmers on the speakerphone in my home office.

The boat was always a bone of contention. It was like Lover’s lover. It always needed something that cost bucks. It had to have pricey accommodations. If there was a weather alert, extreme strides were taken to go to the beach and bring it to our primary residence. The HOA would be typing the violation letter as it was being parked in front of the house. The motor, boat and trailer had to have registrations at three different state agencies. “Someone” was always taking it through an oyster bed or trying to sink it off the Gulf Coast. (You’re supposed to put the plugs back in it before it is launched!) God only knows how much he enjoyed being out to sea and running out of gas as a Carnival Cruise ship was coming straight at us! Taking that walk on the wild side.

Happy Fathers Day, Lover

The father of my children has been gone for two Fathers Days. Last Fathers Day, I didn’t even know what was going on. I was lost and it was the first day I was totally alone since his death on June 1. I transplanted a tree in the backyard. It quickly died within weeks. I took it as a sign that there was no hope in the world. Through a lot of trials and tribulations this past year, a grip on my life, as it is now, has taken a lot of turns.

I miss my husband. Our kids miss their father.

What I would give for him to leave his dirty socks on the living room floor or empty beer cans on the table on the back porch. It would thrill me to see a broken carburetor on the glass top dining room table or to hear him singing a George Jones song from the garage.

Hold your Dads close. Tell them now how much you love them and appreciate them – everyday. We did.