Confession Tuesday - 100 Years Edition

It's confession time, won't you come along with me?


Dear Reader:

It has been one low key Thanksgiving, one house lockout, one damaged book from Amazon, untold breaking news stories on the investigation into the Russian influence on the 2016 campaign and  Trump family, et al., another guilty plea, a promise this will all be over by the end of the year and Trump cleared (I have some prime swampland for sale at bargain price), the end of the cleanout of mom's apartment, one Super Nova Moon and two weeks since my last confession

I confess that I missed a week, that just gives me more to work with today.  I'm home from work taking a half day vacation. I have this problem that requires me to do this from time to time. I have accrued nearly my limit in vacation hours.  To go over means I will be truncated. In other words, I lose any new hours acquired during that pay period in order to stay at the max. When this happens I get a little note from our office manager telling me to take some time off,  or sometimes she just writes GO HOME! on the vacation and sick day form, we get bi-weekly. It seems I am the only one in the office with this problem.  I will use a bunch of hours in March when I go to AWP18.

So going back to Thanksgiving, it was low key this year.  My wife and I had a small no-frills meal together and in the late afternoon, she left with two of my daughters to drive to Tennessee to see my third daughter for a few days. I enjoyed our time together. I confess I missed not having a pecan pie, but who would not miss one if they didn't have one.  So, I was mostly home alone for the holiday. at least the extended portion. I managed to find interesting things to do, like lock myself out of the house. It's a long story and I confess that's all I'm going to say about it.

Then, I confess that there is so much I want to say to Donald Trump's face, but I won't go into details. Let's say that none of it would be friendly or in any way complimentary.

I confess the Super Nova Moon was awesome. I told my wife in the car the other night that I believed the moon was God's gift to poets.I know that so many poets have written about the moon that many believe it is overworked in poetry.  That may be, but it is up there and it's like a mirror in the sky and it is so fucking inspiring sometimes. Say what you want about the number of moon poems, but the best one has never been written yet...

You already know that my mother recently passed away (if you've been reading my confessions) and in addition to that a former boss of mine died rather unexpectedly at the end of November. John was 69 years old. I confess, as I've mentioned in the past, that I have been compulsively obsessed with the combined elements of death and time.  This started sometime between age 20 and 25 but was certainly blow wide open at 25.  I think it's roots were probably bedded in the "quarter-century what have you done" complex.

In more recent years say maybe the past two, I've dwelled upon this much less. Almost none. But here I am again, back for more punishment.I suspect I have the recent deaths to thank for that.  The Five For Fighting song, 100 Years keeps going on in my head. I like the song but it's somewhere between nostalgic and melancholy.  But it's when I'm obsessed with death that I feel the most pressure about writing. The feeling that I am up against a clock ticking till the end and when it comes, that's it. What I've got, what I've created, achieved, that's it. That's what I leave behind. A really burdensome thought.

 Thank you, dear reader, for joining me. Until next time, I'll just be looping this song in my head...

Confession Tuesday - stalking death edition

To the confessional....

Dear reader:

Tuesday night and I've just got home a short while ago. It's been a long-long week since my last confession and I'm ready to get this over with so I can put it behind me and move on and unwind tonight.

My wife used to talk about driving a fast 45 MPH  or a slow 45 MPH. But 45 is 45 right? I guess it's kind of like time. Twenty-four hours is twenty-four hours and yet some days seem like an eternity, and extrapolated a week of those kind of days are like, a week of eternities. My mother-in-law decided to stop dialysis recently and of course the result of that is that the body will finally shut down, death becomes imminent. Her decision has dictated much of the past ten days or so.  My wife has been dutifully at here bedside some of every day. In many instances spending the night with her. I've watched her (my wife) attempt to find some degree of normalcy each day where there is nothing normal. I know this is far more difficult for her then myself, but I confess it's not easy to watch my wife go through this with her.

There have been several times that we thought, or someone would convinces us that it was her time.  Her time has really been taking it's time. I got a call from her today at work and rushed home to run her out there. She had not planned to go out till tonight but they called from the care facility to tell us they though the family should come out. On of here brothers had been there all day and they had been in touch throughout the day.
Oh, and they said they were putting out refreshments for the family. Refreshments?  Really? I confess this seems a little circus like.

We went out and were joined by other family members. Honestly she looked pretty good. Her breathing pace has slowed but she was not breathing labored. She is in a sleep. Some occasional facial expression changes though not many. She once sort of squinted open her eyes. Cathy ended up staying the night (as she had planned) but she and I agree, Mom is not looking like tonight is the night.

There are aspects of our life that seem on hold. Only because of the uncertainty of the end time. Each day is another possibility. I know Cathy hopes it is sooner then later. She has at times asked me to pray that it comes soon. I confess that I feel uneasy with such prayers.

In the meantime, death (a subject that clearly takes me outside my comfort zone) seems to dominate my day and night and I have no control over it.