I decided

I decided that I like having a record of my life through blogs. I  was reading some old posts and I really liked knowing where I was. I am glad to have survived a full 20 months since BJay died. Those first few months were so incredibly hard. I am glad to say that the children and I are doing much better. I believe we are thriving. And little baby Bridger arrived a little over a year ago, sweet, tiny and perfect. Time does heal. 

 

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Gabe hail

Gabe hail

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Baby Bridger watching the storm

Baby Bridger watching the storm

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Hail Storm

Hail Storm

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Remix

This was written by a really good friend in the first days after BJay died. I love it.

I’ve spent a lot time thinking over the first words I got of his death. That’s the part I replay. I almost feel like I’ve memorized it, except in truth I’ve memorized my own version, the way I read the message, which doesn’t exactly carry over from what was written by Jessica. (whole parts of it I’ve made up myself.) Earlier tonight I wrote out how it read for me, like a remix.
It’s not really meant to be a poem since it’s a literal interpretation. I clicked on her email and immediately spit a mouthful of cherry chocolate globs and slime onto a blank piece of paper then reread the first sentence. The way I remember that has taken on a life of its own.

[ remix ]
Something something, [person] died this morning.
Something something, [person] died this morning. He died saving my son from drowning.
[person] died this morning.
[person] died this morning.
[person] died this morning.
[person] died this morning.
[person] died this morning.
[person] died this morning.
[person] died this morning.
[person] died this morning.
[person] died this morning. I love that man for saving my son. And for loving me.
[person] died this morning. He died saving my son.
Saving my son.
Washed out eyes.
I touched him.
Shocking thing.
[person] died this morning.
I love that man.
I can you tell you this.
It was the Last time.
Something something, [person] died this morning.
I love that man.
I love that man.
I love that man.
I love that man.
That man.
That man died.
I am a volcano.
I can show you things you’ve never seen.
Make you feel things you’ve never touched.
I am not a tragedy
but the world will hear what this is.

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BJay and Gabe

BJay and Gabe

July 5, 2010 BJay and Gabe admiring a spider

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The Boatman

The Boatman

He is always there before you expect him
gliding in through a cloudless fog.
Keeping time, strait lines never far from shore.
.
The boatman’s time is keeping pace with tragedy.
With heartache and disembodied cries.
With pain so acute and fresh it can’t be contained.
He has to hear and hear and hear, a chorus of anguish,
that is part of the chore.

It is a thankless job, for coins. 
And no one ever thinks to give him anything more.
Once in a while he gets to see what is out of place.
The people who don’t belong,
ones he can’t bear to carry across.
And that is when he takes them back.
Wishing, just once, to reverse the order.

But he can not go back across empty handed.

He guided my children to my arms and
left us standing on the shore.
He took my lover to the great beyond,
because he had to do it.
Because order can not be undone.

I have met him but I did not see his face.
My children know him and they
divide their food.
“For the boatman,” they say, because he helped  us.

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