Category Archives: your last day

dads, faith, fathers, forgiveness, God, life, life lessons, love, personal growth, philosophy, your last day

Trials and Tribulations

There is little to no doubt that letting go is healthy in certain situations. It is also a fact, beyond argument, that often circumstances make release the toughest of choices. All of the “I wishes” clog the mechanism that allows the grieving deed of the broken heart to be done. Maybe it’s not that we need to ‘let go’, perhaps we must realize we never possessed a grip in the first place. The illusion of a hold and hence the ability to release said fiction is all a part of the story.

The perfectly and uniquely imperfect gene does not discriminate. It is an affliction we are all born with. There are many days when I revel in the gifts that my individuality bestows upon me and times when I play the sad song of “if only”, over and over; A fruitless pursuit rooted in an unchangeable past and human condition. Alas, our Hearts do not always beat to the rhythm of a rational drummer. Driven by Love the daydreams will arise of their own accord. All we can do is smile and try to focus on the good times.

The past is gone, the mistakes have been made. There is no Time Machine available and, frankly, no time to waist. So, we must try to put things into the hands of a Higher Power and Live today. Playing the what if game only with the wishful Dreams of the future. Today we must take the hot rod to the car wash, check the combustible parts, change the tires and fluids and give the wheel to Someone else.

I will always remember and never stop Loving, but I will Live today.

Will

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faith, fathers, Fathers, forgiveness, God, life, life lessons, love, personal growth, philosophy, Uncategorized, your last day

The In Between



The In Between

We perched above the Pacific, gigantic waves crashing below. Sitting, looking, listening…, imagining. One of the few times in a very long while that my mind was empty. The thought drifted in so honestly, it took me a long moment to realize it wasn’t physically possible. “I should call Dad”. Sitting here in Llano, Texas so far removed from that setting, there is certainly water flowing.

The drops are partially the result of phone calls that can’t be answered and salty from those that simply won’t be. As Dad would say, “Ain’t that a helluva thing”?

I often think about Mom and Dad and the decisions they made. Right or wrong, for we are All a faulty lot, they made the best ones they knew how. Though comparison is the devil’s work and a fool’s punishment, I can’t help but draw them. Daily, I ruminate on my record, going so far as to flog myself for actions that were inevitable.

There isn’t a one of us that can alter the past, or who we are. Quite the contrary. We must strive to be our true selves, not denying inner for the outer everyone expects. I’ve witnessed the destructive and combustible results of that behavior. Still, we are human. Therefore, we long.

Each day I search deeper, Praying for answers that may never come. I try to Rise rather than fall. Then I sleep. Though I wake from Dreams, sometimes in my slumber those phone calls are answered from both sides of Tomorrow.

Hear the Waves Crash and Listen to what the Silence says in between.

I remain ever Hopeful.

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faith, fathers, forgiveness, life, life lessons, love, personal growth, philosophy, your last day

Graffiti

Handwritten sentiments and putting pen to paper are art forms that seem to be disappearing from the landscape of our lives. I so miss receiving letters from loved ones and, fondly, treasure boxes of old notes from friends that go back many moons. I’ve even saved a few letters I wrote, never delivered for one reason, or another. Though my handwriting has taken a turn towards the cellar (maybe it was never very good in the first place), I still write letters and record many thoughts the old fashioned way.

There is something about the act itself that is meaningful to me. Maybe it is the extra time it takes, as I try to make things legible. Perhaps, it’s envisioning my mom and dad sitting at their desks, penning their own emotions. For all the reasons it could be, it is undeniably the love I have for the person on the receiving end, that makes the process special. Read or not, understood or dismissed, I feel a little bit more of my heart is in the universe, where it belongs.

Recently, as I wrote, pages stacked one atop another, the indentions left called to me. Observing the inkless marks on page two, I thought about pressing through. It is easy to dismiss the impressions we leave on others every day.

Each moment, we make marks on the world with our touch. We help another, hurt a feeling, bring a smile, share a laugh. The simplest things may be the ones that matter most.

Scribbling through our day, we rarely see the affect of our actions. The stranger, who we helped for no reason other than the right one, goes home a little lighter because you lifted them. The waiter I admonished, because my day wasn’t going so well, ends his night dejected. Seen and unseen, the residual outcomes cut both ways.

Because we are, we touch. Just remembering that, on occasion, helps. I know it is cliche, but there is certainly a fine line between pleasure and pain. That mid-court barrier just may be our next word, our next press…

The indentions we leave will be interpreted in many ways. A story may be deciphered without the ink. Some are recreated as we trace the pattern left behind. The ridges, when felt, may read like a mysterious form of brail. All in all, the mark is made and has importance, beyond the author’s intent.

However the typeset is received, remember, it will be. A friend of mine once said, “Good writing is not written, it is experienced”. In life, the same is true for words less eloquent.

Our love and it’s opposite are left through the pressure of our pencil, whip of our tongue, lift in our embrace. My unsolicited advice for the morning is three fold:

Press – Live and experience what you write. Know each moment matters to many more than just you.

Feel the indentions – Understand, there are multiple ways to embrace the grooves; Accept.

Wonder – because, isn’t that all we can really do.

The story we are living is mysteriously amazing. We contribute our individual entry every moment; Words, sentences and paragraphs that bleed through to the next page, because we are.

Press,
William

Sent from my iPhone

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dads, fathers, Fear, life lessons, love, philosophy, your last day

The Ledger

No one who ever asked my dad for help left disappointed. Dad didn’t have much, but knew he had it all. Frankly, whether asked or not he would help those in need. The only thing he didn’t share was where the fish were…

I watched him over a pile of bills many times at the dinning room table, sorting “pay nows” and “float”. He’d sigh as he rose, turn right around and give $100 to someone in a jam.

It didn’t always seem to be the best decision making, but he always did what needed doing. He’d figure out the rest.

Maybe it all traced back to the day he lay dying on a battlefield in Saipan, a bullet hole through his chest. An exit wound, four times the size of the impact point, through his back. I imagine many “if I live” promises being made to the Man upstairs on that day in 1944.

I wonder if “as many children as I can possibly have” was one of those promises:)? Course he’d have to find a Saint to collaborate on that Front. What were the other words uttered? What thoughts flashed through the young Marine’s mind?

I’m certain that going into every battle my father was afraid to die, but he would do what he had to do. Just as strong is my belief that as he lay on rocky ground dying his fear of mortality disappeared. It was in God’s hands. I never met a man more resolute that God has a plan.

Being on the brink can free a person from the shackles that fear battles to enslave us in. The trick is to be able to unlock those restraints without the unwanted kickstart of a bullet through the chest.

Dad was not always right. He was in fact, quite often wrong. Never was there a man more perfectly imperfect. He made the best decisions possible, given the circumstances at hand. Then he acted. Fear could go fuck itself. What I’d give to live like that….

We all make the best decisions we know how. Certainly, we are wrong at least 50% of the time. Let me give you a little tip. Every answer you give and action we take which is based in fear has a much higher probability of being on the debit side of our ledger.

I want to tell you I am, quite assuredly, not able to shirk the ropes of fear anywhere close to 100 % of the time, but I’m getting better! Sure it’s a “do as I say not as I do” thing, however it is solid good dope. Just look back on a few key decisions you’ve made. How’d the ones based in fear work out? What about those made with nothing but confidence? I bet I know the answer.

There were and are many men and women on this earth able to live there lives like each day is the last. Dad had the privilege of walking in those ranks. Each of our worlds would be brighter if we could do the same. Decisions made out of love, respect and consciousness carry the collective strength of the universe as their ally. The makings of a mighty team in my opinion.

Power through your day with confidence. Act decisively with the best intentions. You never know what might happen.

Here’s to you all. Go get some!

Will

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