Monday, May 28, 2018

It's A Minute After Midnight

May 28, 2018.

Twenty-two months since Frank died.

Sometimes I don't know how I've lived this long.

I have no regrets about my relationship with Frankie.  I loved him with all my heart.  But I grieve that I will never get the chance again in this life to show him.  Or tell him.  I can only pray he sees me take care of his son and feels my love living on that way.

I try to cope by not actually feeling that loss.  I focus on the positive, my happy memories.  I tell myself it doesn't help little Frankie to see my grief.  My job now is to keep his father and his fathers love for him as a bright happy constant presence.

But sometimes when I am alone, I let myself feel it.  Really feel it

Sometimes though, someone else forces me to feel it.  They force me with their selfish attitude toward their children.  They force me when they casually pass up on loving their children in ways that I can never have again.  I want to scream and rage at them.  You never know what tomorrow will bring you or take away from you.  You could be me.  You could be sitting in a chair with a doctor saying they're sorry they did their best.  You could be sitting at home when you see a car pull up and a police officer or a military chaplain gets out to knock on your door. You could be the only one who wakes up from a car accident. You could realize that you lost your chances on petty bullshit.