Sticky Beak
|
The Skinny
|
...life in small Northern towns, working for assholes, boys who refuse to become men, synthetic personalities, anorexic models and their link to emotional scarring, bad marijuana trips, crazies on BC Transit, beer, piece of shit cars, living out of a suitcase paycheck to paycheck, unrequited love, Seinfeld, minimum-wage jobs, broken New Year�s resolutions, and over-limit Visa accounts.
|
I Am Doing My Best... I just received a fabulous email from a relative stranger letting me know that my writing has shown her that she is not alone in the world, and has provided her with some level of entertainment. Thank you, Tina. I can't tell you how much I appreciate hearing that, and also to know that I am not alone with the trials and tribulations that life has thrown at me these 31 years. Thank you. There is a 'poem' that hung in my grandfather's cabin until he passed away, at which time it was given to me. It's so simple, but at the same time so difficult to live by. I think if we are able to achieve even one small part of this each day, then we have accomplished something truly worthy of ourselves. It reads...
Be good, but not too good... I don't know whether my Grandpa managed to live by these words on a daily basis - he died before I was old enough to appreciate him and ask him these kinds of questions. But I do know that he set enough of an example as a kind and wonderful human being that there is a very special place in the heart of everyone who knew him, and a void where he once placed his sunshine.
Death is the shits, isn't it? It's so permanent and irreversible. There are always regrets that accompany death... secrets you wish you would have shared, praise you should have given, kind words you should have bestowed. Grandpa Karr lived with us from my earliest memories. He was our surrogate parent, and a strong influence in the common thread of stubborn individualism that weaves through each of me and my four siblings. He passed away when I was seventeen and at the peak of my self-absorbed, ego-centrical stage in life. The evening before he died I was working at China Moon and had plans to go to a movie with a girlfriend when I finished for the night. Grandpa called me at work, at a time when I was busy, and asked if I would take my little sister to see 'Beauty and the Beast' in his stead. He had promised her that he would take her, but wasn't feeling well and didn't want to let her down. I don't remember what I said to him exactly, but I know it was rude and impatient... something along the lines of "forget it, I already have plans". That evening, after the movie had ended and I was in a deep state of R.E.M., I had a dream that was so incredibly vivid, unlike any I'd ever had before or since. In my dream, my maternal grandmother - who had died 3 years prior - was sitting in the lower levels of the bleachers at our local hockey rink. I could see every detail of her; the small floral print on her blouse, the dangling gold earrings she wore, the sweep of her hair across her forehead. What struck me the most, though, was her laughter. I had never known my grandma very well, but in the years when I was old enough to observe and internalize our interactions, she came across as very bitter and angry; I now know that she was a deeply unhappy woman suffering from loneliness and depression. I had never seen her laugh the way she was now, in my dream. Up behind her, in the highest section of the bleachers, sat a male figure. He was blurry due to being so far away from me, but I knew it was one of my grandfathers... although I couldn't determine which one. My Grandma continued to laugh her light, musical laugh, and smile at me reassuringly. And she said to me, "Don't worry, he's ok... he's with me now." The next morning I went upstairs for breakfast before heading back in to China Moon for another shift, and told my mom about my very vivid dream. We both thought it was interesting that I had seen Grandma so clearly, when I had honestly not thought of her for months, but put no stock in it and went about our day. That afternoon, I came home to learn that Grandpa Karr had died suddenly and alone a few hours earlier. It took several years for me to forgive myself for my last words to Grandpa, and to realize that despite all my bullshit teenage attitude, he knew I loved and admired him deeply. Still, I have lived with that regret for fourteen years now. I've vowed that I would never allow myself to part ways with someone I love on bad terms, or to allow an opportunity to pass by me where I could have shown them the love, admiration and appreciation I hold for them. Life is fleeting, and in the end the only thing we have are the people in our lives and the relationships we've forged with them. I've encountered a lot of skepticism about Damian since I shared him with you here, and a great deal of concern that he may well be a serial killer. I can assure you that he is not a serial killer; I may not have the best track record with the boys that I've chosen, but no one could ever say that any of them were bad people... I think I'm a better judge of character than that. So please, don't worry. I hope that now you can understand why I have absolutely no hesitation in flying around the world to meet this amazing person who I've so luckily stumbled into, amidst all the chaos and evil in this world... We are rarely given such opportunities, and when they are presented to us, we need to embrace them readily and willingly. Life is too short for regrets. "Live. Above all things, live... don't simply exist." |