Focus

  If I focus hard enough I can still recall that Saturday; with the smells of fresh cut grass as they flood my nose, I can hear the neighbor mowing his lawn like I had done just a few hours ago. The sound of my daughter’s laughter rings in my ears, the heat of the sun warming my arms and the back of my neck. Then the vision of my beautiful wife rolling down a hill next to my small daughter their hands grasping for one another as they laugh and tumble fill my field of view. I can even taste the mustard; the brown mustard from my hotdog, the firm texture of the meat in contrast to the sponginess of the bun. A bird flies high over us maybe it’s an eagle or a hawk, more likely it’s a crow, they are dark, some say they are the smartest of all the birds, I don’t know about that but they are all over this summer and they are most definitely dark.



    My focus is important; it has become the center of my universe. Taylor and her mom Carrie; they have filled my heart and soul with the warm nurturing nectar of love for almost a decade. Taylor is seven today, the three years Carrie and I spent together before her birth were wonderful but nothing compares to how we both felt the day she came into our lives seven years ago.



    And this is Taylor’s day, the day we gather together with our friends and celebrate the intense joy we have been given. I knew my parents loved me before they passed away but I had no idea love for your child could be this strong. My father passed while I was away at college, he had a stroke on the freeway and died causing a tremendous traffic jam. My mom always said it was how he wanted to die, pissing off several hundred drivers on interstate 5 in the middle of rush hour. She liked to tell people he died flipping the bird to some asshole. Dad always told me “The world is full of assholes and that number steadily increases the further you get from your front door”. 



    Sometimes in the darkness I can remember going to my mother’s funeral. She was cremated last fall. She was so full of life, my god she was loud; always the life of the party. Typically found in the middle of every discussion and often the cause of most of the arguments. Oh and so full of love. I am sure mom would come back as a ghost, and smack me if I didn’t mention that. Don’t laugh though, there are ghosts around us everywhere; ghosts are just a part of life. It is hard sometimes even now to accept she is resting in an urn in my baby sister’s house. She will be at the party too, my sister not my mom.



    My sister Kristy and her knob of a husband Douglas will be at the party. I think his idea of a good time involves a bottle of cough syrup and the financial section of the Times. After he went though college he spent some time in the Army. They gave him a commission as a Captain; of course he didn’t do anything exciting. He mostly oversaw the logistics for his unit, moving things from one place to another. I can almost see him standing in a parking lot in his crisply ironed uniform with his starched collar as rigid as his soul watching trucks come and go.



    I envision him holding a clipboard in his hand and a smug little smile held on his face. What did he think about as he stood there? Naked women covered in oil fighting over him, or hitting home runs in some major league ballpark? No, I don’t think his imagination is vivid enough for that. In fact he came to Thanksgiving last year just before mom died; all excited about some sort of deal he got on a new cell phone plan. I can almost hear his clipped nasal voice droning on about how many roll over minutes he would collect. I thought he was going to cream his pants and show us all his “O” face.



    After that every time Carrie walked behind him she would mimic him and his “O” face. She volunteered to clear the dishes just to have excuses to walk behind him. God, she can make me smile even when Captain Dull was droning on. Her humor is what I love about her the most. I think her sense of humor must have been genetic because Taylor has it too! My daughter makes up the most hilarious and bizarre stories about monkeys eating pizza and turning into kids and then kids eating bananas and becoming monkeys. I think about her and her mom laughing as often as I can. It helps.     



    I don’t laugh, as much anymore, I can’t remember the last time I laughed spontaneously. I can’t remember smiling at Taylor’s stories without effort. I can usually focus and pull up the memory of sitting in the grass waiting for everyone to gather for the party. I like to think about Carries parody of Captain Dull’s “O” face. At times all those things come rushing in over and over again. Like waves at the ocean coming in and tearing down some child’s sand castle. Then just like the moon pulling the tide out so goes my memory. I have to focus hard, block out everything else. Think of the smell of grass, the sound of laughter and the sight of my love tumbling down a hill. Those are the things I think of in the dark.



    The dark comes often now, sadly more often than laughter. I will be fine and just driving the mini van from McDonalds or the grocery store and a sudden rush of pain will simply engulf me. I fight with all my will power to pull off the road and I have to let it flow over me. Sometimes I will simply sit and rock back and forth in my seat as the world slides away; smelling the coconut air freshener hanging from the mirror. Underneath the coconut there is the stale smell of old fries left in a crack in the car seat. God help me please, fries that will never be eaten sit aging in the crack between the seat and the belt.



    Focus on Taylor and Carrie they are the center they are the touchstone that keeps me here in this world. The darkness fades some and the light comes back, almost like clouds in the spring; when God doesn’t know if he wants to make it rain or shine. Cold darkness spreads across the ground; with a line so crisp and defined you can actually see it. I wipe the bleary tears from my eyes, I can feel my cheeks puff up and I breathe in and out in rasps as I listen to the distant but soothing sound of my wife’s voice and I pray for a joke. Jokes can bring me back.



        “Daddy… Daddy… What happens to a monkey boy who eats a pepperoni pizza? He becomes a pizza monkey boy!”



    The darkness lightens again and I can see the dashboard. The steering wheel is wet from my perspiration, the clear plastic over my gauges is dusty and I think for the thousandth time I need to dust it off. Disgusting snot had run freely from my nose, I sniff hard and clean up with an old forgotten paper napkin. I can smell the coconut and fries, it is thick like a cheap whores perfume. I lean out of the car and throw up on the side of the road. Someone I am sure must think I am drunk.



    Well fuck em, I wish I were drunk. I wish I had something to take away the pain. I tried drinking. Shit I drank myself into the hospital once, and I can’t count the times I woke up in vomit and tears. I swallowed enough pills and smoked enough pot to screw up two frat houses. The pain always came back, harder and sharper. Cutting me like a scalpel slicing me up for some fucking med student to examine and explore. There is no fucking refuge other than my wife and daughter.



    The doctor said he could give me something to help. Fucking doctors they don’t know what I need. Carrie knows, but no one else. How could they? They aren’t in my head and heart. Carrie is and Taylor is that’s it they are the only medicine I can take to stop the darkness.



    Kristy and Captain Dull come over all the time now and say useless shit like “We all want to help you, things will get better, if you let it.” What do they think? Do they honestly think I enjoy pain? They are both assholes and we are better off without them. All I need is my wife and daughter.



    Every time I see Captain Dull I want to shove that cell phone of his so far up his ass he will hear it ring in his fucking throat, but only during off peak hours. Thinking about that makes me smile, but not laugh. The laughter is saved for something special, for someone special for my wife and for my daughter. They are the bringers of light, the bringers of joy and dispellers of the dark pain. Captain Dull has no idea what it means to be in the presence of light.



    I need to focus on the light though. Focus, focus, focus. Smell of grass, sound of laughter, taste of mustard. Carrie gave birth to our daughter on what I thought was the hottest day of the summer. We had gone to the mall to walk, thank god it was air-conditioned; she says walking helps make the baby come sooner. It was funny because she wasn’t the only one to have heard that one.



    There were about six women doing the exact same thing. I can remember walking past women going the other way and Carrie waving hello with a laugh saying “Meet ya at the hospital!” 



    Her smile wide as her hips, she would kick me if she heard that one but she was about to give birth they should be wide! I don’t think I ever saw her look more beautiful. My god the day Taylor was born was a wonderful day. It was one of the best days of my life. I wish I could remember every detail. If there were a machine that captured smells, feelings, and thoughts the way a camera captures sights I would sell my soul to use it. The memory of that day is fading a little though as things tend to do with time. This I do recall her mom was ready with the suitcase; my mom was standing by the phone to make all the important calls. All I had to do was drive and not pass out.



    Focus on the light. Focus, focus, focus. The labor was easy for me, not so much for my lovely wife. Sweat and tears combining then dripping down her red pain contorted face. I can hear the nurse telling her calmly to take a cleansing breath and then exhale, its ironic I use the same kind of breathing now to control my own pain. I can remember the smell of antiseptic they used to clean the bathrooms and I can remember the smell of the room as Carrie evacuated her bowels. That was something I don’t remember being told about in birthing classes. Carrie didn’t care though she was a little preoccupied, it’s strange the things you hold onto. 



    Sometimes I focus on the smell of Taylor’s hair, her blond hair freshly washed with that yellow tear-free shampoo. I can close my eyes and remember the smell of my baby as I held her in the afternoon for her nap. The light wisps of hair tickling my nose, as I smell her. I remember my heart beating slow and steady next to her fast tiny heart. I can feel the clinginess of my shirt, damp from the moisture of her sweat. Tiny bodies make lots of heat. She doesn’t nap on my chest anymore. I wonder if she is too old now? How long has it been since she fell asleep in my arms? Darkness again, I need to focus; smell of grass, laughter, mustard and a bird.



    It was a Friday night; in fact it was the Friday following Taylor’s seventh birthday that the darkness first came to me. I still had to put together some of Taylor’s new toys. I spent two hours of my life trying to assemble her bike I had no idea it was so complicated. Taylor spent all that week riding in circles up and down our driveway. Carrie and Taylor were on their way home from soccer practice and I was just making spaghetti with meat sauce. I like to think I make pretty good pasta. But we were out of fresh garlic so I was going to make due with some powdered stuff. I know Carrie would notice but Taylor with her just turned seven year old pallet couldn’t tell the difference.



I remember reaching out to put the powder in the sauce and hearing the phone ring, there was a voice on the other end but I can’t remember exactly what they said or what I said because suddenly the world went black, totally black. I could feel hot tears of pain on my cheek. There was the smell the garlic powder. Strong and acidic almost burning in my nostrils. I could hear the water boiling and the meat sizzling, oh and then I heard something strange. It was almost a rasping sound like cloth covering paper run over the arm of a chair. I thought that is strange, until I realized it was my breath.



    Then every thing faded some before coming into focus. I could see myself with my hands balled up on my face. It was like I had been driven out of my body with pain. I could see myself on the counter leaning against it; sliding slowly down. I remember thinking “Damn those drawer handles are going to hurt ya chief.”



It didn’t matter that I had gouged my back as I slid down along the kitchen drawers. My entire body was wracked with pain. What was one more injury? I couldn’t think of anything except I needed with every fiber in my soul and every cell in my body to be with Carrie. I needed her there with me then.



    Where was she? She was at soccer practice; fucking soccer practice with Taylor. Seriously is that where she is? That fucking bitch! The moment I wanted and needed her most she was gone watching kids kick a God damned soccer ball. The rage I felt with her at that moment was more than I could handle and I blacked out again. This time the abrasive buzzing sound of a smoke alarm brought me back.



    Shit how long had I been out? Well the sauce was fucked; no one could eat it now. I stood up slowly, thinking about and gently testing my body and all the pain almost like an internal audit of body parts. Arms… ok, legs… ok, chest…ok trying to see what hurt the most. I turned off the stove and opened a window.



    Then the pain flared back up but at first no darkness. Instead I just crumpled to the floor, with my bloody gouged back resting against the handles of the drawers. Eyes open watching the smoke eddy and twist in the warm summer air. The dark smoke and smell of spilled garlic powder, burnt meat and tomato sauce was everywhere it was filling my body with every breath and it was looking for an opening into my soul a crack or a gap in the armor. I wish it hadn’t found it but it did.



    The darkness was in and it was quickly emptying everything I held precious out. If Carrie or even Taylor had been there then I know; I know for a fact that it wouldn’t have made it in. But they weren’t there; fucking selfish bitches were gone and playing around at a God dammed soccer field laughing and smiling. Shit Carrie might even be flirting with one of the dads. I know they look at her, thinking about how she compares to their wives. I can normally just laugh about it with her, lonely flirting dads with ugly wives is just another of our inside jokes. That is just about fucking great, she is off flirting and my sauce is ruined. My soul is broken; fucking bitch couldn’t even have the decency to make it home to dinner on time.



    Focus, focus, focus. Smell of grass, sound of laughter, taste of mustard. Captain Dull is the one who found me actually. That shit head picked me up and drug me to the couch, then called an ambulance. I didn’t need a couch or a fucking doctor. I needed my wife and daughter. Shit, where were they? It was dark when Captain Dull got me to the couch, I could have sworn it was like six in the evening when I was making dinner. And in the summer it doesn’t get dark until after nine. It didn’t click. I couldn’t understand why the Captain Ass Muncher was crying either. I was the one in pain not his dull sorry ass. Fuckers don’t get it do they? If I am in pain then why are they the ones crying? Where was everyone? Why was I here with this jerk off? 



    Darkness came back, sweet black darkness. Then nothing, I don't know how long it lasted, Captain Dull could most likely give you a detailed time line of the events down to my blood pressure and respiratory rate but as I say “fuck em”. I do remember waking up at one point with the bitter and salty taste of tears and sweat in my nose and mouth. Do you think this is what Carrie tasted when she gave birth to Taylor? I think so.



    Before I opened my eyes I could hear Carrie laughing at a monkey joke. “What did the boy who ate fifty bananas say to the monkey?  Ohh ohh ohh ee ee ee!”



    She made it! I knew she loved me as much as I loved her, my God I was so ashamed for thinking all those horrible thoughts; I needed to tell her about it say I was sorry and receive her absolution. I know she would have been there if she had been able to. Something must have come up. Practice ran late or she was at the store having remembered we were out of garlic. God I was an asshole, I promised myself I would spend every moment of everyday from this point on worshiping her. I opened my eyes and expected to see my wife’s blond hair, blue smiling eyes even the little wrinkles in the corner of her eyes. She is self-conscious about them but they make her more human to me.



    Focus, focus, focus. Green grass, the smell of summer, birds flying over me, two granite stones with names and dates.



    They had been driving home from soccer practice. Carrie had just entered the middle of an intersection in her Honda Accord when a pickup truck driven by a group of high school kids hit them doing 70. The driver was sixteen and had her license for less than a month. Both Carrie and Taylor died almost instantly in that Honda Accord. The tires and bumper of the truck killed my wife by robbing her of her precious blood as it disintegrated the windshield. The undercarriage of the same F-250 pickup crushed the roof as it snapped my daughter’s neck as she sat next to her soccer ball.



    It has taken me much longer to die, but it is coming, I am ready to welcome it. It was almost a week from Taylor’s seventh birthday that she died. I have tried to celebrate as best I could three of her birthdays since their death. Kristy and Captain Dull have tried to be there for me but they are not who I want. I told you that ghosts are a part of life and I have been living with my ghosts for three years. They talk to me from the somewhere else; maybe it’s from inside the darkness.



    The one thing about ghosts no one tells you is they fade with time. I can only remember a few of Taylor’s monkey jokes. I can’t remember exactly how many times Carrie walked behind ole Captain Dull Douglas making “O” faces. I can’t even remember at times what it was like to laugh. The darkness comes more and more often. I think there is something on the other side of the darkness. Do you think it’s the light? I think so; I think that when the darkness comes it is telling me to look for the light. And if there isn't anymore light here then I need to go somewhere else. 



    Focus, focus, focus. I smell fresh cut grass, I can hear laughing, and I can almost see my wife and daughter rolling down the hill in our front yard. I can see a dark bird circling over head bringing the darkness one final time. “Hello sweetie I missed you, I'm ready. I'm ready.”