Tag Archives: death

the other side

You can’t peruse YouTube  without tripping over one of the countless videos of surprise reunions of returning men and women from recent tours of duty.  Of course they are moving, especially the ones where kids welcome mommy or daddy home.

But what about the people who will never get a reunion?  And what do their kids feel like?  We never see and videos about that do we?  What about the families ripped apart because a son or daughter is not coming home. We just send young men and women to die on foreign soil so companies like Halliburton can make billions “democratizing” these nations.  So we never get to see the man or woman, father, mother, husband, wife left alone because their son,daughter or spouse is not coming home.  Do we just say “I’m sorry” and hope it all goes away? Where is their joy going to come from?

It’s the morning
Soon, he’ll rise
Finds the glasses for his eyes
Aren’t what they used to be
Picks up the clothes
He’s worn so long
On the bureau sits
The picture of a lady
And the mural of a man
Whose been gone for many years

Listening to the children play
Reminds him of the days
Many years ago
Thoughts of a child
That he helped grow
And memory of a letter
Saying, dear Sir
We regret to inform you
Your son will not be coming home

Old man, tell me are there fears
Do you measure life in years
Or is one day all you’ll ever know

The old man walks in Echo Park
From bench to bench he moves
From morning til dark
For the ducks
Some bread he brings
Wonder if he’ll feed them
This time next spring

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Filed under america, life, peace, politics, soapbox, useless politicians, YouTube

sleep well, spanky

spankyjust shy of 16 years, it was time to go be with his brother.  he told me so. 

always hyper-vigilant, always sleeping with one eye open wary of whatever dog was roaming through the house.  finding short stretches of peace lazing on my chest whenever i picked up a book to read.  he and his brother domino were kittens for beth on her tenth birthday. 

he was a faucet drinker (only if he did not have his noggin’ deep in my water glass); probably shot our water bell to hell and back morespankycup than once.  he only started drinking from a bowl – the dog’s bowl, not his – when his back legs started giving out, unable to propel himself up to the sink, or up to the top of the fridge, where dinner was expected promptly at 5 pm.  16 years.  that’s over five thousand cans of horse giblets scraped into a tiny bowl on a nightly basis.

he was a talker;  he and i would often meow back and forth at the end of the day, sharing stories.  me talking about office drudgery and he complaining about the dog sticking her nose in his butt or the lack of fresh tuna in the house.

some thought he was snobbish and high-strung.  come on.  he’s a cat.  what else would he be?  but i knew that scratching the right spot behind his ears revved the purr motor.  he was also in the habit of scratching his own nose and chin against rough fabric (denim, bed-covers, anything handy) when his tail end was scratched.

today we took a last ride to the vet.  it was only fitting, i thought, to have him sit in my lap instead of getting cooped in the carry-all.  he peered out the window and watched the world go by, sometimes too fast for his liking, his alert mechanism on high.  once at the vet, I put him on the flannel blanket covered table.  he sniffed for a moment and decided it was time.  he lay down and closed his eyes while i stroked his fur as if to say  ‘thank you.  i don’t have to struggle anymore.  i can rest.”

i know he and domino are curled up together again, as they were so many times here on earth; a yin-yang configuration of black and white fur.  they were brothers and they’re reunited in a peaceful place filled with limitless albacore and lush green catnip fields.

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Filed under animals, family