Poetic Referendum(s) On Life

Mortal

Feeling mortal is the greatest stealer of momentum.

I can only imagine what must be going through my brother's mind. He had cancer before and beat it with surgery and some radiation therapy. This on the heels of my Dad's death in 2001. Dad had lymphoma twice -- the first time, at age 80. He beat it with chemo. When he was diagnosed again three years later, on the heels of my Mom's death, he couldn't take life anymore.

I tell everyone Dad died from cancer. Truth be known, he took his own life. In the months preceeding Dad's death, my brother had been on suicide watch. He never told me that he had taken away Dad's guns or anything else that he could hurt himself with. I wished I had known. Knowing what Michael is facing now, I'm staring death in the eyes and I don't like the familiarity.

I worry about Mike's spirit. He came to visit last night. I couldn't broach the subject. I asked my wife, 'What am I supposed to say.' She just told me to just be me, spend some time with him. It was my wife who told me about his lab report showing a new cancer gene, a cancer different than the one he had before. She had advised me not to miss out on any more opportunities to bond...and it hit me.

What is Mike going through? He was upset with Dad for taking his own life. Mike was the one who found him in his truck in the garage. He phoned me that day to tell me and I had never heard him sob before, or tell me that he loved me like he does now every time we get together. I never imagined he could be that shaken, because he was the cool one, always calm and collected. A meticulous master of machinery with race cars, semi trucks, classic autos and more to take care of, Mike was as easy to understand as the wink of an eye and a coy smile. In my mind, he's Elvis and Brett Favre rolled into one, only cooler and tough.

And to sit with him at dinner last night and not know how to begin a conversation literally tore me up inside. I could barely look him in the eye. Do I fear death? Do I fear seeing him come unglued the way my idol had before? I haven't been able to think or do anything remotely constructive in the last three days. My avoidance system triggers alerts every other moment, forcing me to sink deeper in despair, into the reality of this careless, wreckless life. How will death find me? Will it take my wife and/or children before me? Will it take me away before my children are old enough to accept my departure? How will this all play out?

I do know I have to do something. I came here thinking I could resurrect my writing dreams of publication, but I wonder if I have deluded myself. There are things far more important than seeing my words in print, or knowing that I am accepted by writing peers. I enjoy writing, but not now. I can't give thought to publishing a book of poetry or completing a novel. I get interrupted with these notions of how insignificant everything seems in the shadow of the grim reaper.

I don't want to play drama queen, so I suppress my anxieties. I keep these issues from my family and try to find distraction. Writing.com was my distraction. But I got a big wake up call. I have to think this one through before I commit another ounce of energy to reading, writing, reviewing, etc., etc. and start thinking about the things that will give back to me before time has elapsed.

I need to stop feeling like I'm not worthy and jump into this fray called life. If I get punched and bruised in the process, so what? At least I'll know I lived.