" Within This Hollow House, How Loud Resound..."

“ Within This Hollow House, How Loud Resound The Faintest Echoes Of Children Laughing, Running; To The Errant Dreams Of Long-ago Love I Might Have Known, But For All This “

04/22/12

To my dearest, constant friends, and ever-loyal readers, without whom my soul-stuff might just fade away, it is YOU who give me greatest joy from your caring, steadfast regard, and your support.

How many times—now—have I placed upon the alter of my trueness, some little entries whose subjects—nonetheless—bestir my being, or disturb a troubled mind, so that—in giving all these thoughts to you, you might—in your immaculate kindness help me find my Voice, and thus, my way?  Or would, I pray, prove to be of some little help to you.  How you save me from a brittle Present, and, with your caring comments help bestill a worried conscience to soothe the complexities of my grief, yet, never do you berate me, whenever these musings often arise from agony that seems without end, or purpose.  Or when I am dazzled by migraines and depressions so severe, and an agoraphobia that too often traps me within the confines of my home, as nowhere else seems safe.

And all those wretched nights of wakefulness, and tortured nightmare, which gives me sweaty chills, and a skewed view of what is real; and when days pass days to further days of an exhausted likeness.  What is the point to all of this? Why is the reason?  For I wish—ever—to know the reason for it, as if that knowledge would, somehow find Justness there, and hence, a calm.

And while I do enjoy the quiet of a peaceful house, with Daisy sleeping near, sometimes that quiet is itself a sound unbearable, that I think would try to accuse me of all my wrongnesses, and choices made in error.

Outside, beyond my reckoning, or my fantasized arrangements, the world moves in an utter indifference to my pleas, and I am left to wonder all the binary consequences had I but decided more wisely.

Although I moved ‘here’ earlier, as mischance and lack of options made it a necessity, for sixteen years, I remained to care for my elderly, ill mother and father; somehow, it neatly spanned my own decline into disability, but I hope I did what I could for them, for they were my world….two, frail electrons that circled me as in an atom of oxygen, and please make NO mistake, I would do it a hundred times again, not out of filial duty so much, but out of love.  Until I could no longer work, I worked full time nights to care for them during the days, while I tried to ever salvage some sleep sufficient to keep a momentum going.

On many a morning—after work—I arrived home too tired to even get out of the car; I first would swing my legs out so my feet touched the ground.  And after five minutes or so, only then could I take a deep breath, and pull myself from the car, to stumble to the door, and in the house.  And I was much thinner, and younger—of course—by decades.

The days, as if foreshortened, passed into quickened years, that sped on and on with a clockwork regularity.  There was no time for ‘dating’, and once, I—with some suddenness—realized that seven months had passed before I took a night off to go out!

And so I watched in a kind of morbid indifference, as my ‘thirties’ passed into oblivion…then my ‘forties’.  There was always so much that had to be done, and in those fleeting days, what brashness I had was always overshadowed by my shyness and reserve, whenever trying to ‘meet’ new people.

I never cared for ‘Sports Bars’, or the like, or to oblige its occupants (who even then, were younger than I), their half-inebriated shouting, screaming revelries, as they seemed to spend equal time before the giant-screen TeeVee—checking out a game--while checking-out each other.  These were the new ‘Captains and ‘Captainesses’ of Industry’?  Most likely, rather, they were flashy, overdressed slaves to lower management jobs…cashiers or assistant managers, or the like, or wilder, anything that required a vest or uniform.

But their professed excitement mixed with the smell of beer, was just too raucous, and made my ears hurt from the inescapable loudness and jostling; I stayed to have my beer, sitting quietly, while I got the cuffs of my shirt wet from the moisture and spilled drinks on the bar.  I never could find anyone for quiet conversation; that seemed—somehow—as inappropriate as spitting in church.

I saw excitement, yes, but a thing I could only think of was a kind of ‘herd’ behavior, by those who were young, and strong, and bright-eyed from the smoke and alcohol; here they were, on a weekend out, throwing damp and wrinkled twenty-dollar bills upon the bar, looking for fun and diversion (which I could not blame them for), but also in something like a  glittered mating game, as there would be the inevitable telephone number exchanged, and as these places were all alike, there would—in time—be singles who would arrive, but, who left—as pairs—to stagger-out near closing time.

And when I left that night, as soon as I quit the door I paused, to fill my lungs with a crisp night air, and with sounds of cheering, laughter, and noise, I drove home, no more the wiser, but no less alone.

And so it was. In older movies, should anyone still watch them, the passing of time, would often be represented by changing calendar pages, blown away by a wind.  Unlikely, but, it was easy and efficient.  My life was just like that.

The time during which I might have met someone to love, to cherish, to respect, and to delight in passed me by, as did the notion of my ever being able to hold ‘our’ babies in arms that ached to hold them close; to ever love and protect them, guide and direct them.  To have a family of my own.  Just think, those children—now--might be starting college!  Or…I might have grandchildren now on whom to dote!

Now…it would not be fair to have a loving wife have to become a nursemaid to her husband, or their children stuck with a father, who—loving them, nonetheless—could not get on the ground to play with them.  And, who in High School wants a parent who’s an invalid?  And the inevitability of my becoming a burden is a consideration now uppermost in my mind.

When I first started this entry, I was overtly depressed and feeling hopeless.  In a way, now, the subject causes me to shake my head in disbelief!  For why does it seem to be such a firmly-entrenched part of being human to want what he has not; to envy others, and to bemoan what destiny had in store for us?

We make the best choices that we can, we hope, and from them weave our futures, and our content.  Granted, my model for happiness was based solely on my being an only child, and having been most fortunate to have had a mother and father who loved me dearly. While our lives were not perfect (whose is, really?), that manifested love was enough to carry us through all the years, good times, and bad.

And while loneliness often makes me sad, it is being Alone that scares me, for there IS a difference.  What will—for good example—happen to me, or, is made to happen to me when I need further care, more than I need now?  Will the County be as kind?  Or will my new ‘family’ subsequently be numbered among the occupants of some sleazy nursing home?

For those thoughts scare the shit out of me.  And, no one likes to die, alone, even though—I guess—we all do anyway.

My very treasured friends, I know you have your illnesses, and are forced, too often, to have to cling to pain, as it will not let you free, I nonetheless most sincerely wish for you days, and days of much lessened, or of ‘no pain’, despairing, or abuse. 

I wish for you a happy home, with laughter to replace discord or anger.  I so wish you be surrounded by both friends and family who truly love and care for you. I ever wish you plenty with enough to share.  I wish you comfort in the ease of pain, and quiet in the reconciliation of turmoil.  I would wish you know from my heart that there is never enough love…or, prayer to go around.  And that, too often, the adult-intrusions of daily life seem to vacuum any joy away to make of daily life a listless drag, instead.

I wish for you a lasting sense of peace, the satisfaction of accomplishment, and that your days are filled with happiness; I wish you physical and mental respite.  And wish for you a rekindling of hope, and wish you ever safe and well.  I wish you love to dry-away your tears.  And afternoons and evenings of delight, and yes…the ability to enjoy life, and to have fun (please never forget how salutary simple fun can be!).  Please know how very grateful I am to you for befriending me, and—despite your situations—keeping me safe and close to you, from your inherent goodness, inner strength, and kindness of heart.

And, last of all, at end of each day, I so wish for you a ‘natural’ but good fatigue that leads to sleepy dreaminess.  I wish for you untroubled nights, beautiful dreams, and blissful and untrammeled sleep, so that, in anticipation, you may always awake fully refreshed; and watched-over, and protected by gentle angels.

And, please know, I love you,

‘Zahc'/Charles