in memory of Mr. E. B.

I recently learned of a tragedy of sorts, keeping my thoughts internal where they will remain but upon hearing of Eric's passing, his taking of his life, leaving a family behind, affected me and will for my lifetime. A loner by definition and a mind with streaks of brilliance, his thought process often clouded as what he once referred to as 'recreational drugs' in an initial conversation took over his person and most likely his mental state as well.

As much as I found him to be brash, evasive and conniving, I often was told I was his only friend and that he spoke fondly of my name, wishing my fate were different, I wishing his where too...

A remembrance of sort knowing that he did for me when others could not and for that I am eternally grateful, and will watch his children from a distance grow, as I see the lights go on and them calling one another's name when they play in the alley way, saying hello when the see me, calling me the 'Onion Man' and smiling, not knowing that I never knew of their father's fate but did know he loved them and knew what love was when his mind was clear enough to distinguish between right and wrong.

To his ex-wife, I too can tell her of the times he offered, often to the point of irritation, to assist me, get me out of the house and see Dallas for what Dallas had to offer. Once taking me on a tour that was historic, classical music in the background, showing me parts of the city I never have seen since nor will again and his knowledge, impressive, as he had studied and researched that which intrigued him and me as well.

He gave me a cryptic goodbye a year ago to the date, telling me all was amicable, he was going back to Shreveport to care for his ailing mother, leaving his wife on her terms and reassuring me again, all was for the best. The Mercedes wagon he drove sat in the driveway for months, collecting dirt that was washed off by a rare summer rain and one day it too was gone, a closure of sorts to his life here.

A life he was never proud of, a place he never wanted to reside but did so willingly as it was his wife's career that provided the essentials as he piddled about with projects of extravagance, none that I ever saw to conclusion, or success. Once a used car salesman, it was obvious in the way he spoke to others, always swindling, labeled as different, with his erratic behavior yet always willing to look out for the other guy, just not himself in the proper light and haunted by demons, the stresses the mundane took upon his person, his way of thinking, his masterful plans.

In G-D's speed Mr. B. as we will see one another again and never will I ask why, as a loner thinks alone and acts alone, not realizing that all the tiny pieces, be they right or wrong, good or bad, must now be cleaned up by those left behind, those he did not consider as he was incapable at that moment and possibly he did think it all through, realizing his downward spiral but it was quicksand he saw and there was no escape other than the hope of an afterlife...

His journey has ended, prematurely at best, no alternative, thinking alone as a loner does and ending a life that went from happiness to misery with a sip of Dr. Pepper and the chewing of a pill...

home

I got the 'adult children do not come home to live that often' lecture yesterday, not that I have not heard it before and before that too. I sat and listened and said not a word as I was taken off guard, quite perplexed and know that to say anything is to add fuel to an already burning flame so its best to just let it burn itself out, if that is possible and until I die, the fire will continue to smolder, I will be looked upon with great animosity and regret, and be treated as the child I once was, the adult spoken of, but so very often left out of every and all equations.

It stings, actually burns as the wounds continue to open wide, no healing able to take place as I ponder the many conversations had prior to my arrival when I was adamant about not coming to Texas and was pleaded with until I finally accepted the invitation. Yes, I was invited and that is how I got here, leaving all that I worked for behind, told it was only material things that could be replaced, my health the most important, for without your health, you have nothing. I bought the idea, hook, line and sinker...

When I arrived I was praised and thanked for what I did as it was how I was raised and now, I am scolded if those same things are not done correctly, even though my abilities to do are much less than they once where and the energies exerted taking a toll that is irreversible, all in the name of peace of mind. If my hair is wrong, I am told. If my outfit isn't liked, I am told. If my cooking is overdone, I am told. If I have plans and am unable to drop everything as an order is being cast upon me, its silence and the silence turns into unwillingness to assist me with what ever I might need assistance with.

The little things I worried about and discussed prior to coming , when I was told I worry too much about the small stuff, still have not been done. It is as if while I was airborne, there was a change of heart...

Being grateful for a roof over my head is not good enough, nothing ever has been, nothing ever will be until there is finality on my being,, my chapter closed.

... I was never told but instead reap the consequences of living where I truly was not wanted, in a situation that never could have worked to begin with as I was never going to be treated as an adult, and at the very least, I do not believe that is or was too much to ask for.

I knew not to come to Texas. My heart and soul told me different. The fear of a terminal illness overtook me. And since I did not die when I was supposed to die as originally thought, its my fault, as it has always been since as long as my mind can remember.

Grateful I will always be and never can stress that thought or say it enough as it is never believed as I should do more, be more, and change my believes, morals and convictions to benefit another's, as mine are perceived as trivial in a space and a place that does not belong to me.

Now, the task of getting out sooner than later in the physical state I am,
alive.

California pow wow

I spoke with my Indian friends in Northern California the other night, picking up as we so often do, laughing and smiling under the toughest of circumstances, the saddest of news, the funniest of stories being shared in between the reality we all call life.

As it was upon our first meeting we spoke from the heart and the soul, connected many lifetimes ago, often completing one another's sentences as we have done before and will do again.

We learned something new about each other as we always do, time is invaluable, a precious commodity, something we always have for one another, whether it be in thought or in a conversation, it's there, it's realizing that excuses are easier than finding that time we know to be so desirable...

For the connection we have is spiritual, Serendipity in its' truest form, that shared from the heart creating a sense of worth, a belonging, a desire to see one another again to share, to laugh, to smile, to toast with the finest of ports, to be free and to love in person, a goal set, all the finite details... semantics.

Our 'Carnival Isn't Over', it has just begun...