Confounded

 The greatness surrounding us, we shared in our day and time, cannot be easily laid to rest, though I live ten thousand years. There will always be the enigma of who really did shoot Jack Kennedy, as there happens to be, among the myriad possibilities inherent in the omissions obscured by the Warren Report. Bobby’s presidency which came to pass becomes more significant that Jack’s. Bobby made his late brother proud in a world that never is.

In that world, Bobby safely brings everyone home from Vietnam, long before Dick Nixon succumbed to the riots would have forced him to, because Bobby comprehended our enormous generation, while Nixon never would have. You wrote me once, that I said wonderful things to you, and it finally reminded me of Jack, after it had ample hour to simmer on the back burner of my mind. How did you ever guess I have an affinity for nature without being told?

You were such a clever, talented girl, with so much discipline and brilliance about it was amazing. It has always been amazing to me. You charmed me with your piano, or whatever piano was there. Why was it you always looked quizzically at me whenever I gave you gifts? Didn’t you realize you were worth everything, always and forever? Didn’t you understand that because of my Dad’s disability, my parents marriage was a nightmare; that was the disaster I was avoiding.

I’d been trying to get away from my Dad’s world all my life, with all the screaming and inexplicable anger I struggled with. Did you realize I had an untreated epilepsy, and that was just as much the reason I screamed as my reaction to Dad’s issues? Mother broke the dishes against the walls in the kitchen, because my Dad refused to get a job, when he was more than perfectly qualified. Dad couldn’t get a job – just as I couldn’t – because of a mutual chronic disability.

I did not know much about my disability then, but I do know now. I suffer from chronic schizo-affective disorder, which I inherited from Dad genetically. He got it from Grandma. He had a nervous breakdown in 1950, when he violently broke down the front door of our house. Grandpa tried to get Dad help at the asylum in Pittsburgh, but at that time there was no help to be had anywhere in the world. Medical Science had not advance far enough to include understanding schizophrenia then.

I know what happened to Dad. The medicine available for schizophrenia in 1950 didn’t work anymore for Dad, than it did for me in 1972 , when I returned to university. It was the same major tranquilizers between the two of us at different times, but Dad would never take his. The doctor gave Dad electroshock therapy, which must have at least hurt him physically, as much as anything else. Major tranquilizers that didn’t help the basic problem, which was a chemical imbalance in the brain.

In my heart of hearts, the day and time of our love will never be confounded. Forever they will be rehearsing all the growing of hair and all the pot smoke, inherent our personal day and time. After I broke up with you, I never heard of you doing anything with the other flower children on campus, although you were a flower Child yourself, whether you knew it or not. There will never be anything like one’s first love, and we will be a campus couple for the history books.

You must have been overwrought to have been broken up with by such a gunge ho guy like me, after all we’d been through. I know the things you were subjected to, in the two years we struggled to be a couple. I believe you didn’t come to Takernon Hospital to visit me, because you simply could not bear to see me in that horrible condition I was in, again. I believe you married what’s his name, to have someone to help you in life. It’s alright.

I think I know, I tell myself to shield my aching heart. Even though I already know in my heart, that everything has changed for you over the many years I haven’t seen you, so much more so for you than I. In my heart of hearts, you remain that lovely girl of twenty one, unchanging and unchangeable, for the likes of me, until you finally walk through the door where I am, and show your maturity to me. I crave the sound of your voice, and however different you are in any way.

I promise to be broken and contrite for you, with my haircut, my walker and mouth void of teeth and dentures. Even though I would never reject you a second time, my love, my fears and wishes neutralized me for a full forty years time. I close my eyes to all that happened, especially a full life, replete with honor and children which are not mine. I’ve need the time alone. Regardless of the solitude, I promise I would do my best to be affectionate and kind, open and honest with you.

I only imagine the storytelling between us, after your honor has been satisfied, before your honest heart would bring you here to my threshold. The walker remains the terms I can the most anticipate. I would only leap in my heart at a second opportunity to make you mine. Then, the hurdles would stand before us, and together we’d work at breaking them down. It would be a labor shared, as something too strong for either of us to take on alone, I could never face losing you a second time.

If you arrive at all, I shall make you mine.

Is there any goodwill left in you, or have I wrenched your dear sweet heart from within you breast? Here I am, a lifetime away from you, with no idea where we would ever stand again, nor do I have mechanism to know. We were a couple of wild flower children, and I never asked you how you weathered your initial doobie, not that we were talking? The Lord my God arranged matters, until there was a solitary girl to temporarily comfort me in all this time. She was such a strange sort of girl.

My existence remains, to deal with my heart alone

You repose high upon an elaborate, posh throne, situated upon an ornate pedestal I’ve already erected for you in my solitary heart. You recline there in perpetually comfortable repose, being serenaded by the music of your choice, delivered by the most high tech systems available to your every thought, forever withholding your secrets from my eager ears, about the life you’ve led as another man’s wife, with the most astonishing children, I’m certain, while I adore you, unabashed from afar.

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About geostan51

I'm a wordsmith and a craftsman. I've been known to hand crochet just about anything escept granny squares. I've got about twenty titles in my name on the Kindle Store at Amazon.com.
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