23 Years

What Was Sundered And Undone…

I never really put much stock in things like the paranormal or the supernatural and the like but for a while now (years even) I’ve been having what I can only describe as “a feeling” that something somewhere was wrong and I needed to pay attention, find out what it was.

After the disaster that was the 2016 election coupled with some other personal turmoil, I left Facebook and withdrew from most social media for a long while, letting the flow of life just pass me by, uncaring. I resigned myself to the sheer hatefulness and stupidity of mankind and cared not what happened next, instead focusing on myself and my thoughts and actions and reactions to everyone and everything. I didn’t care if the world survived or burned, I felt free and unchained even if I was a bit lonely.

Then “the feeling” came. Gradually a sense of dread washed over me but I assumed it was the void left behind by the absence of social media and being unplugged from the constant noise. The longer I stayed away, the stronger and louder “the feeling” became. Sure, I could ignore it by simply focusing on something like work or a video game, but it was always there. A constant, nagging companion like the incessant cry of a child begging for attention from its parents. For years this went on and for years I fought with it and tried to ignore it.

Then 2020 happened along with covid. As the months dragged on I thought to myself ‘surely if something happens I’ll be contacted’ but as the months rolled on with nary a word “the feeling” grew to a sickening intensity. I caved in and came back to Facebook, but kept it a secret for a time. Friend requests were sent from some handsome strangers; all were denied. I mainly used it to keep tabs on my local retro gaming store and, when the mood struck me, I would occasionally look up a ghost from my past to see if they still lived. Then I waited.

I managed to keep myself occupied most of 2020 with the help of a few online friends and a selfless, friendly, retired Marine, but this calm wouldn’t last as our friendship would be tested when management decided to put him on third shift. I dare say it made our bond even stronger. He, along with a few others, helped keep these attacks at bay most of the time. But, at home and alone in the dark, this feeling would not abate at times. Over the course of the last six months, this irritation grew to such a pitch that I caved in. I announced that I had returned to Facebook with a reception liken to that of a wet fart and thus I faced what was to come next.

I toyed with the idea of contacting my eldest nephew, Brad, first since he was the one that reached out to me before I went into self imposed exile. I saw his face and it all came back: our childhood together, all the funerals, all the joys, all the sadness. It was too much to bear and I rejected the idea of ever reaching out. Why do something this stupid? Why open yourself up to this hurt? Closing the browser tab I went to a local bar to drown my sorrows in beer, where my friend Alexis asked me what was wrong and I just broke down and explained the situation. She made me feel a little better but still the nagging feeling was there.

A few weeks went by. Chris got fired from the place where we worked together (I’ll not name them in my blog because they deserve no recognition nor any acknowledgment for any sort of good deed for they are the worst type of people - corporate Americans) and after his departure, things spiraled out of control. White hot anger burned inside at the loss of my friend and confidant. Others who I feel less deserving of a second chance still remain in their employ while this man, my friend, and a military veteran to boot, gets the axe. It’s been about 3 weeks and I’m ready to go scorched earth for this man, I just need half a reason. Most of my time has been spent trying to reassure him that everything is going to be fine and trying to comfort him when the anxiety becomes too much. A couple days ago, I finally reached a breaking point during one of his outbursts and hit the ‘fuck it’ button. I found Brad and sent him a message and waited.

…Shall Be Whole, The Two Made One

Time stood still. Minutes turned to hours turned to years turned to centuries. I held my breath, but only for a minute. I needed to exhale and calm down; this would either work out or just blow up in my face, I was prepared for either outcome. After a few minutes I decided to occupy myself until a response came.

Hours later he responded. The reception was as icy as I had imagined it would be, but then again it was nearly 6am, so what did I expect? I could tell after a few responses he wasn’t interested in talking so I decided to move on to his mother and see if she would respond. I sent her a friend request and again, waited.

The next day came and my friend request was approved. I nearly shat myself when the notification of her first message to me came across the screen of my phone. Hands began to shake and my mouth went dry, but this time around I wasn’t gonna be a coward. We reminisced for hours and I finally decided to tell her why I reached out - about my “feeling” that I’d been having for a while. She told me that it wasn’t crazy, so that made me feel a lot better. During our conversation, I was scrolling through the feed and came across a photo that grabbed my attention.

It was my brother Brad’s 63rd birthday

That’s when it all hit me like a ton of bricks. While we talked Pat told me about Brad’s worsening health; he’d been diagnosed with multiple sclerosis, had been wheelchair bound for the last 8 years, and only had the use of one arm. As if life hadn’t been cruel enough to him when our father passed away and everything concerning daddy’s estate got dumped on him, now this. Why?

I remember a much younger and more youthful version of him. So much time had passed when I saw him in this picture, so much life now gone. I remember Brad asking me what the name of an Alice In Chains song was (it was Man In The Box). I remember Brad exercising a lot when I was younger. I remember Brad from 22 years ago, sitting next to me in a pew at our father’s funeral, eyes pinched closed and hand over his mouth as he silently mourned in public. Now, he looked more like our father. He’s not dead by any stretch, but I’ve missed so much of his life; of both their lives. I’ve missed so much and for what?

My sister Pat

During our conversation, we both talked about how we really hated corporate America and wished we worked for ourselves. She mentioned wishing she had a small bakery/café like our sister Pam used to own. The thought of going from working in an industrial bakery to a small and privately owned one made me both disgusted and a little excited. I asked about the rest of our siblings, dreading the answer I was about to get. Johnny and Diana haven’t been seen or heard from in a while. Not a surprise though since they were usually the “bad kids” out of the bunch. James had heart surgery a year ago. Scottie and my nephews Robert and Michael got into a fist fight at a 4th of July celebration a couple years ago and he hasn’t been seen since. Sounds like I’ve missed quite a bit.

I told her that it hit me the other day that mama had been gone 23 years ago but it didn’t feel like it to either of us. She told me that she’s been keeping track of the time too. It was then that I confessed something to her that I felt no one else would understand and that was I felt like everything fell apart after mama had died. She felt the same way and then she confirmed something I suspected had happened and was sad to find I was right.

After I disappeared the family more or less went its own separate ways; no more large get togethers for Thanksgiving and Christmas, no more family get togethers at the end of June. She told me that she goes to mama’s grave a couple times a year and her father’s grave too. When she told me that they’d been thinking about me a lot, I broke down and started sobbing. Even recalling the moment so I could write this, I got choked up. What if I got this all wrong? Even if I did, there’s nothing to it now but to go through it and see what I’m really made of.

I plan on keeping in contact this time. No more lost time. I’ve sent friend requests to my other sisters Pam and Gloria. Pam accepted but hasn’t said a word, yet. And if it ends up being just me, Pat, Brad and their 3 sons and their families, then so be it. All I know at this point in my life is that I need my family…ALL my family.