The Point

Some years back I lost my best friend ,Al Crew, a Marine veteran of the Korean conflict. He was so much his own person that he made an everlasting impression on me, and I felt compelled to dedicate a poem in his honor. Last year I lost my son Colby, and I've been struggling ever since to find some way of expressing that loss. It has lately occurred to me that Al's poem speaks to that loss as well. I do not think Al would mind. They knew one another and shared something of the same quirky sense of humor. To Al and Colby I rededicate "The Point".

The Point

Astride the turning of the year,

Straddling that fence of time

I scanned the land ahead for signs

But finding no familiar mark,

No beacon's blaze, no star to steer,

Turned my bewildered gaze behind

Where faintly glowing, warm and kind

A homely flame made tame the dark.

Just candle-light; yet as I tapped

More memory there surged a flame

'Til, brilliance filling every frame,

The windows of my mind proclaimed

A presence I had seldom paid

Such heed as now, with truth un-trapped,

I saw within me clear and plain,

Beheld the friend, his face and name,

Whose hand had touched all I had made.

I had the choice of turning back

I thought (Oh, what a wishful liar),

When suddenly, with such force and fire

I made as if to jump aside,

Like a train upon a track

His memory came rushing through,

Whistle crying wild and wide,

"Do what you're big enough to do!"

Then up the line there sped my guide.

I find in following his lead

No timid flight or stubborn stand

As one by one I take the hands

I'm dealt and play them as they lie.

For in so doing what I need

To do, I've come to understand

I'll not have done the best I can

Or stood as tall as I can stand

'Til I've stopped trying to touch the sky.

Chuck Simmons-1998

There, now you know who Daddy Underwig is in so-called real life.

Lookout,

Daddy

The r-r-rest of the story

This is another draft that has been hiding and that needs to be aired. I am not pleased that I have allowed myself to indulge in literary cowardice. If I wrote it, that's as good as if I'd said it. Here you go, my emotions were obviously in play, so take it as read.

I have been very lucky in that although I have been married several times I've never made an
enemy of a former wife. I've even made friends with some of their subsequent husbands, but more to the point I've maintained contact with my children. Without drama I've watched them grow and develop lives and families of their own, and sooner rather than later they've given me grandkids. If this sounds idyllic you have nailed it. All that's lacking in this picture is that in the fullness of time I should pass away surrounded by my loved ones,...all of them.

I'm not one to put up with irony, so if anyone wants to console me by declaiming that life is unfair let them know,now and forever, that I was already aware of that. I have buried my share of friends and relations, and I have felt grief, but heretofore my losses have followed a traditional and accepted pattern: No matter how grievous my loss was felt, it did not come before its time. So let me explain how life fooled me.

First of all, when someone is taken as we say, "before their time", we tend to endow them with more than normal attributes. They were this superlative, or that exception. I think this is a normal way of expressing guilt through grief, guilt at not recognizing someone's uniqueness before it was too late. Let everyone who crossed paths with Colby know that I do not believe any of you could have been so dim as to have not been aware of his special nature.

I was surprised, yes, mugged by the loss of my son. His brother's call found me at my computer that morning. I had only recently returned from a visit to Atlanta, and I felt reassured that the infection had passed and he would be strong enough soon to start anew his battle with the cancer. I heard Brady out. and I think I thanked him for calling me. I know I thank him for giving it to me straight.

As far as I know, Colby passed away with his eyes wide open and in the full knowledge that he was going. I envy him this, and I wish a similar passage for myself. It was certainly in character.

I have tried to think of a fitting memorial testament to give for my son. I've gotten bogged down in all the aforementioned superlatives which, while true, seem to fall short. Finally, I bethought me of the way those who knew him best behaved in the run-up to his memorial gathering.

I arrived at the height of the preparations in Atlanta. The club house had been booked, a website had been created, people and food had been pledged. However, the devil being in the details, I could sense a growing sense of frustration among those who were trying to create a gathering that Colby would have liked to have attended himself. The fact that they ultimately succeeded does not change the fact that they really wanted Colby to tell them what to do.

That is the one unique thing I hope everyone takes away with them. Our family has many talents, many admirable attributes to recommend us, but so far as I know, it has been generations since there has been such a one who has had the leadership ability of Colby Wade Simmons.

Now understand this, he did not command. He joyfully led, and who could not follow?


Godbless,
Daddy

Late

This, by rights, should have come between my last two posts, but the fact is I just couldn't bring myself to take it on. You see, he died while I was thinking he just might make it. It seemed he was rallying, and then all at once the cancer cut his feet out from under him. I wasn't there, but I'm given to understand he flipped death off as he left. I am proud; he was my son.

He was my youngest from my first marriage, and his driven attitude fueled my feeling of pissed-off pride. Imagine! Here I was remarried, kid on the way, feeling young (sort of), and here my 16 year old son calls me up and lets me in on the fact that I going to be a grandfather. I loved him and wanted to kick his ass at the same time. That was his life; he did it his way, successfully.

This is bullshit. I wanted to say something in tribute, and I've already rapped it up. I'm still not up to this. My boy deserves better of me, as does his brother and his mother.  For that matter everybody deserves better.  I'll be back. Still lookin' out.

Regards,
Daddy

P.S. This has been sitting as a draft for several months, so the posting date is misleading.  DU