My painful alarm clock

There is a depth in loss that only losers know. A longing of what might of , could of , should of been. Now there is only the empty, vacant vacuum of what you left behind. A world of possibility that fades in recall like last nights vivid dream. I think of you from time to time, think of the times together doing stuff. I try to celebrate, to enjoy your memory but it slips away, morphing into something melancholy and then morbid.

Like all pain, you are an awakening. The alarm clock from hell announcing the fragile nature of who we all are. The broadcast of our brokenness and deep dependency. I hug my children closer. I take a drunk to dinner. I find the homeless and helpless and listen. I sit with my wife and play backgammon even though she is not very good, and cherish loosing to her. Yes, I am filled with your pain, but balanced in a strange way with an understanding of its lesson. life is to be cherished, people are to be loved, mouths are for praise, time is for charity and your memory-my painful alarm clock.

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