The aftermath...

*Just a disclaimer here.  If I use your name, and you don't want me to, drop me a private line either on text or facebook.  I'll change the names of the innocent, so to speak.  Also, I use this as a forum for my thoughts in my mind.  Sometimes it takes minutes to do a blog, sometimes hours, and sometimes days.  While I might clean up the sentences and grammar to look acceptable, they are 100% of my raw emotions and feelings.  Yes, that might be too strong for some, but I'm not catering to anyone.  Yes, I appreciate feedback and advice.  If it goes with what I'm trying to do, I might even take it.*



Last night, was the Memorial Candlelight service at Good Samaritan.  It was, quite frankly, an emotional, sad, happy, crazy draining night.  It continues the road that we started on February 1, 2012.  One I never thought possible, that I never thought we would survive, and thanks to people like Mary Radatovich, we are slowly pulling through.  With her, and our fellow group members, we have found people in a support network, that we have become closer to than some family members and friends we've known for years.  I know this program was started by the now retired Pamela Magi, and though I only met for a few short moments, I am grateful for her compassion and foresight to help the countless people through the years.


Now to talk about what my subject is referring to.  At last nights event, I was asked to read my recent blog, The New Normal.  When I started writing that, it wasn't what I had in mind.  However, what came out, poured out literally took a whole other meaning.  It took a while to write it.  I had to stop a few times.  When I was done, I was shaking.  Tears were coming down, I couldn't control them.  I shook and sobbed for a good hour after I wrote it.  The feelings and emotions were that pure, that sentimental.  It was also 10 months to the day we had buried M-Jay.  Before I went to bed that night, I wrote an email to my mom.  I then went to each boy, and while they were sleeping, gave them a squeeze and kiss on the forehead.  I did the same to my wife.  I curled up in the bed, with my pillow and literally cried myself to sleep.

I was reluctant to read it at first.  I say I have a face for radio and a voice for silent movies.  My wife urged me to, and Mary told me that she wouldn't force me to.  I wrestled with the decision for a few days.  On that Sunday morning, Mary called and asked if I would be able to.  She also assured me that this is one place that being emotional is ok, where no-one would ridicule.  I decided I would do it.  This would be the 2nd time I've 'spoken' in public, using traditional public speaking ideas.  The 1st, was at my daughters' memorial service. 

My nerves were on high alert, and by the time we got the hospital, I was pacing like an idiot.  I tried helping to keep myself busy, but it failed miserably.  My mind was just thinking "what the hell did I get myself into?"  As I went up to read, I couldn't use the microphone.  My voice can boom enough if I need to.  My hands were shaking.  I felt chills.  As I was reading, I looked at the some of the crowd.  I saw tears.  I hear the sniffles. The moment over came me, and I did choke up.  My knees were shaking really really bad, I was using one hand to support myself and hold me up, the other to guide my eyes on the words as they were blurry from tears. 

I felt that raw emotion flooding me.  Every word I spoke took my mind back to the memory that created that sentence.  When I got done and sat back down, I shook for a good 10 minutes.  Like a cold chill that wouldn't go away.

When we took our break, and went to get the food, people were coming up to me, thanking me for putting their thoughts into words, how I hit it right on the head on how they felt.  Shaking my hands, patting my back, hugging me.  I finally had to escape into the bathroom as I felt a bit overwhelmed from the attention.  In retrospect, it's what every 'writer' wants.  To create that reaction.  I just wish it didn't take this to get me back into the game.  At least this blog shouldn't have the tears that seems to result in a lot of the others.

Comments

  1. You know I love this one, too. I am glad that you are no longer hiding your talent under a bushel.

    ReplyDelete
  2. I met you last night. I brought the dip for your chips. I didn't get a chance to thank you after you spoke, but thank you from the bottom of my broken heart.

    ReplyDelete

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