Memories are like a dream. I know that for 22 months I dreamed about a little boy who took possession of a part of my soul that simply completed me in a way that words cannot adequately describe. In my memories, Rees, born with a true knot in his umbilical cord – a cord wrapped around his neck twice, defied death and entered the world undaunted. The more I recall this dream, the more detached I find myself from its narrative, a spectator, not a participant. It’ s as though I see some alternate version of me, an avatar of my real self, lifting Richie, singing to him, cradling him and telling him how much I love him. From afar, I see little Rees growing from a plumpy, buddha-like baby into a skinny, yet solid, little toddler – filled with curiosity. In these memories I witness the dream-like version of … Read More
Back in the 1960’w My father and 4 of his brothers purchased 76 acres of property in upstate NY, simply referred to as, “the hill”, to provide a place for them to practice their mutual love of hunting. Though I never shared my father’s fondness of hunting, the beauty of the property and the seemingly endless natural wonders it possessed holds a special place in my heart. Memories of walking through the woods with my father guiding my eye towards nature’s hidden spoils fill my heart with happiness – and a longing to have just one more opportunity to do that again. The day my father died I remember one of my initial feelings was sadness that I would never again be able to enjoy “the hill” with him again, but also gratitude for the memories that I would forever hold dear.
The day my son was born one of … Read More
Not a night passes in which I don’t wonder what you would have done that day had your life not been taken from us. What would you be saying now? Would you sit on my lap and watch cartoons with me? Would you still smile and laugh as much as you always did? Those thoughts invariably move to projections of the future. What would your strengths have been, weaknesses? Would you play video games with me and enjoy watching baseball? Would you be a singer like me, or a piano player like Mommy?
How about food? Would pizza have been your favorite, or maybe a hamburger? Perhaps you would have been vegetarian? The fact is I will never know, and it tears me up inside. I hate that I will never know these things about you. You were an artistic masterpiece that … Read More