FOR: Four. Letter. Words.

 Trauma Dump (continued)

Everything changed, but change itself. 

Nothing ever changed and I woke up one day and everything was different. 

 


25. My relationship with Eric fell apart. He started to drink too much. I guess he was alone too often. He made a permanent decision. He hung himself in his basement with an orange electrical cord. The only thing left in his house were empty bottle of Canadian Club a single bottle of Heinz ketchup in the fridge, and the stench of stubborn sadness. 

26. My son. I thought. My son, my sun. And I started to tick again. Was that a bomb? Or a clock?  

27. Bobby got diagnosed with cancer. I found out a month before the treatments began. His actual diagnosis was whispered behind my back long before that. My invisible brother (by blood only) insisted he would be supportive. He would hire someone to take care of Bobby. Bobby - hired me. Turns out sometimes, you have to actually be present, to be present.   

28. Tick, Tick, Tick.

29. While grieving the loss of Eric, taking care of my Dad through his cancer, and trying to get Jude to kindergarten on time, I learned about Jude's father. Sober. He was doing well in South Carolina. He started his own business. He was supportive. He had become a good friend. He was consistent. We had hope. Matt had hope. 

30. Bobby was cancerous, just like they said. The chemo treatments sent him to the hospital again and again, and again. Time became one loooooong day.

31. In between trips to Hillman Cancer Center and my son's elementary school were text messages to Matt. He wasn't answering. He wasn't being consistent. He was being scraped off the road from a horrific car accident. He was in a coma. 

32. I was the one relapsing. I wasn't popping pills or drinking everyday, but I was relapsing. 

32. Bobby got through his cancer treatment and was quietly recovering in the background. Matt was brain dead with tubes sticking out of every orifice of his young body.  

32. COVID. COVID. COVID. COVID. Our children's version of 9/11. Only we all didn't get down and pray, we were told to isolate and stay away. Who can stay that way? 

33. Tick, tick, tick. Was that a clock or a bomb? I started running the streets again. Bobby was regaining control. And more control, and more control, and more control. 

34. Jude just kept getting older, wiser, smarter, than me. 

35. I met someone new. I fell in love. Love?! What?! What was that doing here? Not like this, not like that. It was not time for this. We didn't have time for this. 

36. All of this happened anyway. Like Matt's car accident, like Jude's continuous growth, like Cancer, like Covid, like love, this was all inescapable. Time didn't care what time it was. 

37. I lost my mind. 

38. I lost my mind again. 

39. I lost my mind again. 

40. And then... I just lost. Again. 

 

Tick, tick, tick. 

The clock doesn't stop, 

but I had to dismantle this bomb. 

I wasn't bleeding, 

but I was injured. 

This was hurt. 

I screamed in my head: 

TICK! 

FORE!

DUCK!

Time. 

Bomb.  

 

 


Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Christmas. 2026.

Image
Here it comes. Christmas.  This is the first time in twelve years I've been without my son on Christmas. I've never had to share him. I've never had him taken away from me. I'm trying not to focus on the losses. I'm trying not to focus on the anger. I'm focusing on me. I want to be the elusive 'good surprise'.  The hits I've taken through the years are minor compared to ones I've taken this year. Sometimes I feel like leftovers. What does that mean?  It's always about the unanswered questions. Leftovers. The details left out. The details left behind. The questions about Christmas morning this year. Will Bobby have the gifts wrapped and placed neatly on the chair for when Jude comes down the steps in the morning? Is Jude going to let tears fall down his face in the dark before he falls asleep like I do?  Christmas is a dark time for me this year. Dark like the path I was running with no place to go. It's easy to get lost in the darkness. I...
Read more

Mister Pittsburgh

Image
 PITTSBURGH -    It was once a city filled with smog and steel mills but has become a romantic, cozy, beautiful urban entity. It entices and entertains with the Cultural District and Civic Light Opera shows. It has everything from 'Hamilton' to 'Hello Dolly!' performing throughout the year.  The Strip District has always been my hot spot. Let me tell you about when I was young. Let me take you back like the dream sequence in 'Wayne's World'...     At night the clubs opened up and there were a plethora of them. Several of them literally floated along the river on one big dock. A restaurant called Cruisers had tables with umbrellas overlooking the dark and dangerous looking waters of the Allegheny. The river wasn't something to look at back in those days. The depth was unknown, what was in it was not alive, and it had a very distinct smell. If you fell in or went into the river a single shower would not take the smell away. You would have to use bleach and...
Read more

So.Buttons on Your Underpants

Image
 I wanted to Trauma Dump so I can stop talking about it. I thought it would stop being a part of me. I thought it would stop being a part of my writing. But that will never be.  That will never be.  'But to say never say never you done said never twice...it's the questions, it's the questions boy...' (Common Sense)  'Sew, buttons on your underpants.'  My Mom always used to say that. I would sigh and say, 'So....'  She would finish my sentence with, 'buttons on your underpants.' I still catch myself repeating her quips and phrases after all these years.  Semantics.  What a 'mother huncher'!  That's another little phrase I picked up from my buddy's Dad. He would say 'mother huncher' instead of y'know....the big cuss word.  He also called Giant Eagle, 'The Dirty Bird'. Ew.  But that's what we are left with when people leave our lives in one way or another. Things they've said, things they'v...
Read more