Bad Instructions

People like telling you what to do.

it's true.

they like to give excellent advice to you,

so excellent that they won't follow it themselves. 

and we like hearing advice!

well, to a point.

no one likes to be left on their own in a world that doesn't make sense

at least, not without some instructions.

so we drink them in.

we're so thirsty for them...

we're so thirsty that we don't even test these directions,

we don't take a moment to look where they're directing us,

we just head off in hopes that once we get where we go

we wont want to keep on going.

when i was told my mother had cancer

i was very young.

old enough where i knew it was bad,

but young enough where that was the best negative descriptive word i knew.

i can't remember the advice i was given,

but i remember being given a lot of it.

"let out your feelings, 

let us know what you want."

stuff like that.

these were bad instructions.

i didn't know what i wanted, 

and now i know that most people don't in the first place.

i wanted her to wake me up in the morning when i went to school

to come say good night to me when i went to bed,

and to make the best god damn sheppards pie in the world

every once in a while..

i was eight,

i didn't know you could want for someone to get better,

to beat cancer,

i didn't know you could want that. 

i wanted her there, and she was, cancer could suck it,

i didn't know it could be so violent.

it was just a word in the dictionary.

nothing in life really prepares a family for that,

and equally nothing really prepares a family for what happens next,

when she beats it.

it's as if Gandhi just beat Muhammad Ali in a boxing match,

everyone goes crazy in wild celebration afterwards,

and there are more noises and sounds than one can exclaim,

and it's wonderful

but it settles down

something can only hold the limelight of people's exciting lives for so long.

GANDHI JUST BEAT MOTHER FUCKING MUHAMMAD ALI.

there's no time appropriate for settling down,

there's no time appropriate for self conscious composure,

it's time for dancing,

time for singing,

time to forget everything you do in life 

everything that's meant to keep you or someone else happy,

alive.

it should be put on the back burner in favour of celebration.

because this is what everything you do in life is for,

this is what your savings is for, so SPEND IT.

this is why you were racking up those vacation days, so USE THEM.

but i was still pretty young.

and all i was told was "you should be happy"

happy?

this was a very bad instruction.

i should have been happy i got tucked in at night,

that when i forgot to make my lunch that one would get to me at school,

i should have been happy like having been given a new book.

and i was.

but happy doesn't cut it,

i should have been fucking ecstatic. 

ecstatic in that it was my mom tucking me in,

that those lunches always had the taste of extra care

i should have been ecstatic like being given the world's library 

and should never have put a book down.

but i was happy.

because someone told me to be.

...god damn directions...

when i was a bit older my father was told he had cancer,

then we were told.

"spend as much time with him as you can"

was something i heard more times than i care to remember.

this may have been pretty good advice

i'm not sure why i didn't listen to it, 

but i'm certain it was because his life was what was cancerous.

to me at least.

so i stayed away from that as much as i could

because i was old enough to realize cancer's not something you want. 

i didn't want it.

he didn't want it.

but hearing "spend as much time with him as you can"

from family and friends

is much different from hearing

"you only have this much time to spend with him"

from his doctor.

that rattled me. 

but it should have picked me up and shook me

like an ice cream hungry 8 year old and their piggy bank,

shaking loose every bone in my body 

and breaking the ties i had to anything else that would take up my time.

his time.

he faded.

physically.

but i had never been more proud of him 

as when he showed how bright and open he had become.

i couldn't spend enough time with him then.

he was more my father then,

weak, frail, sleepless and vulnerable,

because he was being strong,

he was being brave,

and he wasn't scared.

the last time i saw him he couldn't speak

he couldn't open his eyes

but they said he could hear.

i know he could hear me.

but i'll be damned if i remember

the exact words that were my last to him.

i didn't hug him.

i don't know why.

instead i grabbed his hand,

grabbed his hand like i was grabbing for my life.

i was grabbing for a large part of it afterall.

a part that was about to leave forever.

but then he grabbed mine.

and it wasn't a hand shake

even though we were both holding on so tight that that's what it turned into.

there were no words to go with this.

i couldn't speak either.

there was a pathway between rows of roses

right outside his door, that he liked to walk.

this only started near the end.

but it made him happy, even then.

the last piece of advice he gave me

he gave to everyone.

and while he couldn't speak,

during that last handshake i could hear his voice 

from time and time before,

saying "stop and smell the roses."

it seems easy enough to understand but until then it never stood out to me.

then i got it.

Stop.

and smell the roses.

and right then, the last time i ever saw him, 

the last time i ever held his hand

a few hours before he would take his last breath with his parents beside him

he did something no one else had done to me

and something no one has done since.

I had

finally

been given a good instruction.

Undeniable

If i could hear the colour of your hair,

i bet it would smolder...

if i could see the passion in your voice, 

i bet it would flicker and glow...

your whole being is an inferno,

intense, infectious, sweeping,

and undeniably present.

making use of what's given,

and making new beginnings at every turn.

uncontrollable, unquenchable,

this world is not enough

and you could swallow it whole,

igniting every inch,

smiling while you watch it burn.

you

are an inferno.

you set all things ablaze

with just a touch.

you

are an inferno.

searching for someone who won't fall to ash,

someone to burn with.

Remember Me by This

"Remember me by this"

is what you said

as you bequeathed what you bequothe to me

from within your hand upon to mine,

a locket you yourself had made

and just a day before,

with the very hands that grazed mine then;

the only ones to touch my core.

i was shook and shaken

full of fear

and also anger too

but you did what you had done

and one last time you disappeared. 

that locket in my hands,

the hands that yours had touched too soon before,

those hands then clenched so tight

the clasp your hands had made with so much care

was stuck sealed solid for four more years.

not a word did i speak to you

nor would i had i found you.

not a single sound then passed these lips upon this face,

this face of mine you used to kiss,

not a single sound was meant for you

or either of your ears.

not until that seal stuck solid gave way

and brought back your disappearing day

did i ever say a word,

a word which what was wished to whisper passed your thoughts

and echo off the walls that you had built inside your heart,

the walls s that you yourself had built

with those very hands,

the walls which never kept me out

but which had never let me in.

stuck solid seals give way in such a fashion 

that the clasp is then just more decay,

and upon mine eyes gazing at that locket

which you yourself had made

with the very hands you hold

holding someone else's to this day,

i did not see what i had seen each day before.

for those four years it was your golden face,

a face that stopped one's heart at but a glance

then made it quicken pace.

your golden face inside that locket,

with a smile only god could make,

with the very hands which he must hold,

which must have made the rest of you,

but this was not the case.

within that locket which you gave to me

with words telling, that this, the only way must be

how i remember you,

i did not find your golden face,

nor silver smile,

but instead a picture of myself

grinning like a child.

i do remember the occasion though i know it's not important,

you wished to be remembered- not in physical attraction

but in how you let me love you

and from your every silver smile

my school boy reaction.

the words i then did whisper

from my lips to yours,

words i doubt you noticed

as we are far from each our doors,

these words whispered something that i feared,

something that i feared so deeply

i had never said before

but yes i mean them now

and do i ever mean them truly

-

I am sorry. 

Stargazing

the other day as was laying on the floor

laying, looking at the stars

that we had stuck up on the ceiling

i awoke from a place that wasn't sleep

a place where things were real but only there

a place where we used to visit long.

i awoke as i was missing you

eyes closed enough to stop the world

but not enough to stop the stars

from leaving scars in my eyes.

i had closed my eyes

looking, as is natural,

at the backs of my own eyelids,

noticing how infinitely close they are,

as close as anything could be.

then i thought of you

and as you crossed my mind

there you did appear

on the backs of those same eyelids

just as close as tears.

there you were

and there you stood

alone save for yourself,

the two of you 

not even inches away

seen as one

The Speech

so, i was at a wedding the other day, and let me tell you- weddings get to me. they do, they just do and i don't know why. and what got to me the most was something during the speeches.

 they had waited to do the toasts and everything until after everyone had eaten and had a drink or two. there weren't too many people who got up to say something but there was one that just nailed it. when the groom's father was called up his speech started before he even touched the mic. everything he was going to say was in his movements, his smooth and purposeful rise from the chair, chest out and cool strides to the podium. this was a proud man. when he grabbed the microphone it looked suddenly much smaller in his hand. he didn't have anything written down in front of him but you could tell he had definitely prepared what he was going to say and had probably practiced it once or twice. 

i was lucky enough to find someone who had filmed all the speeches, so i went over the video and wrote down what he said. i really want to share this with whoever wants to read it, so i hope you enjoy it.. i've included some narration as well. 

*he takes the mic and looks at the bride and sort of gives a nod before looking at his son. this was going to be a word from a father to a son. through the entire speech he's looking right at Ian, and the feeling that gave off was awesome. almost like this was the most honest thing one could ever say to a son, and we were all privy to it. it was incredible.*

"Ian, 

i don't know how you did it

-found this girl, that is.

and i don't know how you tricked her into sticking around

but you've managed to pull her in and she doesn't seem to mind. 

*he sort of chuckles and there are some laughs from the tables, and he goes on.*

she's gorgeous, look at her

right beside you

making you look more of a man than ever.

i guess i must have done something right- 

*you can already hear his voice beginning to strain, and he takes a deep breath*

-to raise you to end up here 

with her.

i remember you Ian,

i remember you from the beginning. 

even you don't remember everything, 

but i've been there right from the start.

your entire life 

your first breath

your first word

step, first fall,

your first gold medal

first car

*he chokes up and pauses, you can hear him breathing to calm himself down.*

and now

after being there for your whole life

more of your life than you've known

i'm seeing you start a new one

with someone so beautiful 

god couldn't make her twice.

and this time

you'll see it right from the beginning.

with every life though, Ian,

*when he says his name it's as if the universe is giving a nod of approval. i told you, they had some crazy energy between them for this.*

remember this-

there are always firsts.

there are always scraped knees

and skinned elbows.

but they do heal.

and kisses always make them feel better.

*here he looks at the bride and sort of tips the mic to her, as if he were greeting someone with a tip of the hat.*

so,

i know how busy life is.

and i can tell you-

new ones are the busiest.

so i don't think i'll have this much of your attention again for a long time,

possibly not until i die.

*he said that very matter-of-fact, in such a way that it wasn't so grim as logical.*

i want you to know i don't mind. 

she needs you,

you're starting your life.

and seeing you do that...

*he starts to choke up a little bit again.*

i could never be happier.

i know you think this speech should be a congratulations,

it's not.

this is a thank you.

*when he says "thank you" it's as if he'd never said it before and all this weight had just come off him.*

thank you 

for being a good son.

for bringing out the best in everyone.

for pursuing your own dreams

and never giving up.

thank you

for finding true love,

and for making me

*staggered sharp breath*

the proudest father.

i love you."

he put the mic back on the stand and looked like that was the last time he would be able to say that to his son, and not someone's husband. he started walking towards the bride and groom but Ian was already on the floor. that was a sight. no one was clapping, there were no cheers or anything, it was quiet. it was a moment. father and son, hugging in the middle of the room with all their friends and family surrounding them, the son dressed a charcoal grey suit, looking like he could own the world, and the father in a faded, slightly brighter grey dress jacket, white dress shirt and black pants (someone later told me that he had the jacket resized and was the same one he wore when he got married, that's why it was faded.)

they both had tears coming down their faces but neither were saying a thing. i'm not sure if they could if they tried. and the camera didn't catch it but i remember looking over at the bride and the look on her face was something i will never forget. she looked like she just realized how the man she just married became that man. or maybe she saw exactly how much trust there was- between father and son, and between the father and her. she was taking his son away after-all, and he was trusting her with that. and there were some other looks thrown in there, not as prevalent, but there. shock, joy, discovery, nostalgia, pride, and love. 

and i'm going to end it there. the video keeps going but i think that's a nice ending. 

or beginning.

Nervous

he looks at you

beautiful.

he looks at his shoes

scuffed.

he glances left 

at nothing in particular.

he looks at you

stunning...

he looks at you

beautiful.

straightening his back

handsome.

he looks at his shoes

scuffed.

he shuffles his feet

nervous.

he glances left

at nothing in particular.

rocking on his feet

hands stuffed in his pockets.

he looks at you

stunning...

he's smiling

hopeful.

he looks at you

beautiful.

straightening his back

handsome.

"Hi."

he looks down at his shoes

scuffed.

he shuffles his feet

nervous.

"So would you, uhh..."

he glances left

at nothing in particular.

rocking on his feet,

hands stuffed in his pockets.

"i mean..."

he looks at you

stunning.

he's smiling.

hopeful.

"Do you like coffee?"

The Loneliest Man

how quiet it must have been

for you, michael collins...

how calm it must have seemed

for you, michael collins...

how tranquil you must have felt

up there alone

with no one on the radio,

except for you, michael collins...

doing something no one had done

with no one around to see

because you were in a place no one had been

with no way to share what you saw

because even radios fail that far away from home.

but not you, michael collins...

how dark was it in there

with not even the sun to guide your way?

how still was the air

with not even the wind to make a sound?

how many times did you ask yourself,

michael collins,

if you would ever see home again?

how many times did you think to yourself,

michael collins,

that you might not ever again

see the faces you remember?

on that clearest night,

did the stars not seem brighter than before?

upon coming into the sun again,

did you,

michael collins,

not feel lighter than before?

it must have been strangely startling 

to have been startled by that strange crackle

coming from the radio.

for another human voice to sound so foreign

yours must have been a lie.

how did it feel leaving that void,

michael collins,

and crashing back into existence? 

how soon did it feel,

to you, michael collins,

that your feet were back on the ground?

i imagine you must miss that silence.

...

i imagine you must 

from time to time

walk far far away

and look back up at the stars.

i would ask you one question if i could,

michael collins,

on the clearest night

when you look up into that darkness

have the stars ever been brighter than before?

*Michael Collins was the 3rd astronaught on the apollo 11 mission. he didn't walk on the moon, he had to stay in orbit to pick them up later. while on the other side of the moon all radio contact was lost. for those 48 minutes he was the farthest anyone has ever (even now) been from the earth and from another living thing. he really was the loneliest man. Don't forget his name.