Dear Blake...

After disposing of all the things in my home that simply meant nothing to me anymore; packing what little was left into a storage shed, I took the picture I shared in my last post.  I steppedback,closed the door, and placed a large chrome lock thru the opening and CLICK.

When I drove off, my gut was wrenched.  Tilting my head back as I paused at the stop sign, I remembered telling my son when his stomach was upset, "in thru the nose, out thru the mouth".  Here I was, a grown man, broken.

July 4th was without a doubt Blake's favorite holiday and his last 4th on this earth was his biggest.  Blake had been helping me do some work on a home I was remodeling and for a couple weeks, he did not want paid.  Little did I know, he was building up what would be a cash cow for fireworks.

I paid him and off he went with friends, only to return a few hours later begging me to look at something.  He popped his trunk open and OMG, it was stacked with fireworks.  My personality didn't lend well to his investment, so instead of being excited, I lectured him on how wasteful that was.

So often I wish I could takethat back, but I can't and I've grown to realize that even if I could go back, I would lecture him on why I didn't like his investment.  His last 4th of July on this earth was explosive to say the least.  I smile now thinking back at his smile when he opened that trunk.  

5 1/2 years later, an imploded second marriage, my things stacked in a storage shed, desperate for a reason to live, I drove off seeking anything.  As I pulled into the cemetery, I felt that I had to explain to him why I was doing what I was doing.  Blake's grave had become my "ground zero". 

Anytime I struggled with decisions, this is where I came.  On several occasions, I drove the four hours here just to stand for five minutes and reflect, followed by a four hour drive home in silence.  I rarely asked why.  I often asked for strength and forgiveness for the times I wasn't a patient dad.  He listened, both Blake and God.  

 

Written July 4th, 2011

Dear Blake,

I’m not sure why I’m here this time, seems it’s always when I need help.  I’m broken, I mean broken.  I’m sitting here in the grass next to you, it’s actually the grass that will be turned when I die.  I can honestly say I wish that were now.  I’d never do it myself, but than again, this time I’m not sure.

You know me the well, I’m a complicated seed.  This wasn’t how things were supposed to turn out and I hopelessly feel like a fuck for what’s taking place.  I’ve left my job, everything I care about is piled in a metal shed, and I’m doing something that goes against every bone in my body.

Help me make sense of this!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! What makes things even harder is the fact that I can hear fireworks popping as I sit here and write to you.  God I miss you Blake.  All those times I road you to be like me, I’m sorry.  I thought I had the answers, look at me now.  I’m so fucking mad at myself, I’m not even sure broken fits. 

How about shattered?  You always had this way of calming me when my ass was all bunged up.  Sometimes I wanted to just smack you, but that smile and “give me a hug dad” just made me melt.  I just can’t stop crying, dude, is it worth all this?  You’ve got to help me, I’m listening the best I can.

I don’t want to leave here; I’m scared to death.  I’ll be listening and watching for you.  For sixteen years I tried to teach you things, I’m ready to listen now.  Please teach me.  I’ll stop by again, soon I hope.

Love you

Dad

 

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