Times of tragedy have a way of reminding me why I started writing all those years ago. It’s easy to dismiss all of the words I have penned to the paper for all these years, because they’ve already been written, harder is it to remember the hows and the whys of how they came to be in the first place. I originally created the bleeding heart journal back in 2002, while I was serving in the Air Force and stationed at RAF Lakenheath in England. March of 2002 found me trapped on that same British island while Brian and Bob endured the pain that was Scott’s passing. It’s not that Scott and I were close so much as it was the pain I felt in my inability to be there for the family. My only escapes, my best copping mechanisms, were to drink, to smoke, and to create the Bleeding Heart journal; a place for my living thoughts to exist. Without this chain of events, I’m not sure I’d be half the writer I am today… which is only quarter as good as the professionals 😉
Papi’s passing has me in quite the opposite of situations. A tragedy of mammoth proportions has transpired and I’m here for it. There are so many things passing through my mind in regards to the funeral day events. Firstly, I stand by my previous opinion that an open casket is a necessary event. Losing Aaron and not seeing his body has weighed heavily on me, to the point of creating conspiracy theories to describe how he might still be alive and what he might still be doing. Don’t get me wrong, it makes sense that he was cremated and I’d like to cremated as well, it just lacked a necessary element of closure that I never knew that I’d need until I found myself in a position without it. Papi is gone. I know it, my mind knows it, there is a period at the end of the sentence because it is indisputable, because I have seen that which cannot be unseen.
My writing is a byproduct pain. Since it’s creation, my life has had many years of both peace and prosperity. This 35th year of my life has been rife with struggle and sadness. All of these events have changed me but do not strike fear into my heart. The past is predictable, it’s the future that is scary. A reprieve is all that I ask for, not for me, but for them. The magic we’ve used to pull rabbits from this hat needs time to recharge.