In late 1996, I kept thinking about what my father would have been thinking about the last 7 days of his life. It was all I could think about, so I finally had to put it to paper and let it free. I know what he had basically done during those days and what he might have been feeling seemed to be floating in the atmosphere all around me. You may wonder how I could really know the subliminal feelings that my father may have been experiencing during this time. All I can say about that is that, when I read these words, I keep hitting spots that resonate like a guitar string struck that is connected between my core and running out millions of miles away to the other end of the universe. This is my attempt to put it into those feelings into thoughts and ultimately, words.
Who's Behind the Door?
Monday
By Mike Jackson
The day is
humid. The salt is in the air. It has been there for sixteen years now. I do not wonder for how long more it will be
there. Should I?
The morning
sun warns of it's forthcoming anger as I open to door to my old truck. I turn the key. The engine answers, just like always.
Is there a
shadow? Somewhere in the great depths of
my existence? Do I comprehend that this is the last Monday there will ever
be? My heart is so full of memories. My dreams are nothing more than foolish
recollections. It might surprise anyone
to learn of the simple things that I have dreamed of in recent days. So long ago I lost the sunshine that could
live alone inside of me. Only those that
I love more than anything else could carry me now. No!
Love or no love, no one carries me!
Am I
insecure? I have not allowed the time to
consider this in this lifetime. What is
a lifetime?
Do I somehow
see beyond the curtain and down the road?
There is a man waiting just down around the bend that I have always
known. I have laughed at him a thousand
times, no, a million times. Do I know
that he is now waiting for me laughing, knowing I am coming down the path? In a momentary flash I see him from the
corner of my eye and I turn to see him gone!
Echoes of my soul play on like a symphony. From somewhere without noticing, I collect all
that I am and I place it next to the window that overlooks the edge of forever.
I do not know
why I feel this way except that it is Sandy
I just don't
know...
I
just don't know...
I
just don't know...
Tuesday
By Mike Jackson
Tuesday. It is my Saturday. I journey into the city, today. Just like every time, I will drive there
again. The city so full of life. Many stories can be told within it. Many of these stories about me about Brooke,
Mike, Amy, Ma, Dave, Sandy, Brian, Phyllis, Jeri, Charlie. Today, I am alone. I was alone last month and the month before
that and for many more times than I care to think of. Engine purrs.
Transmission growls. Radio
whistles. Shadow lurks.
Running down
the long road the memories flood in. I
used to have ideas, now I have only yesterday.
I have waited so long.
STOP! Why can I not shake this feeling of
dread!? I shake my head and loose myself
in the social world that I am so engulfed in these days. The radio is on, but behind the voices, I
hear music. It is a music that I have
never heard. I know what it is, but I
just do not know what it is right now.
I can hear the
footsteps so so far away. They are so
soft yet have a power never seen by anyone.
The terror this power can bring cannot be comprehended. I stand.
Firm. Wind, tidal surges and all
else are no match for my lack of fear. I
do not fear.
As the wind
blows off the Gulf on this hot South Texas
afternoon there was a whisper that chilled me.
I must have imagined it, I had to have imagined it. The lack of sleep has brought me to a point
of recession from the dimension of reality.
I am who I always was, but exhaustion has brought a stranger into my
life. If I could be, I'd be amazed at
the bottom line our existence, but I am just too tired.
The things
that make me who I am are packed in three packages that sit by the door. I just don't know it yet.
Despite this
twilight consciousness, I carry on like always.
I may be tired, but I'm still laughing.
Wednesday
By Mike Jackson
No rest. I do not sleep anymore. Days off from work are days to be reminded of
where I am. Over the years I have been
an artist in the "All-nighter".
Now, I have no choice.
Defiantly, I
look to my future. My existence as I
have molded it goes on. There is
tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow. I
feel like I will always be.
Dammit Tom, I
just don't feel well. I feel like I'm
coming down with something. I've felt
like crap all day.
The music
slows, the lights go out on Wednesday. I
am at home. It is dark. Do I know that this is my last night home?
The piano,
barely audible plays it's low key tune.
I begin to recognize it even though I've never heard it's melody before.
Thursday
By Mike Jackson
The sun is
out. The sky is blue. All is as it should be on a warm Port Aransas
day. My faithful old truck carries me to
work. But something is wrong. I feel like I am drowning.
I would never
be a bother to anyone. People see me but
the reality is, I feel like I'm drowning and when they look into my eyes they
know that something is amiss. I really
don't want to burden anyone, but MY GOD!
I'm DROWNING!!
I reach out
for sympathy in a most uncharacteristic effort.
My friend knows there is some sort of danger, but he cannot believe that
I can be vulnerable. Moments later the
hammer drops like we all know it will someday.
I make eye contact with the old man down the road.
I fall. Let me just go away. I can heal my wounds in seclusion. But all of the time I wonder if when alone
should I just fix it for good. But
no. A very dear friend tells me the way
to go. I am vulnerable as people labor
over and around me. This is it. I have kept all this pain hidden for so long
and now, foreclosure.
In a hospital
bed I contemplate the future. I still
believe there is a future, but as I stare at the ceiling, that old familiar
music plays and somewhere deep inside I know I can never go home.
Friday
By Mike Jackson
Hours seem
like days. The reality of the setting
sinks in. I am here. I have now heard all they have to say. I learned to fight when I was so young and
I've known nothing but since those days.
Today however, the fight is over.
Knowing what I now know, I must draw all to a close, I know what must
happen now.
The crystal
ship.....Oh! How it used to just wash
over me. I know deep inside that
although this is the end of the fight, there is one great battle yet to
fight. In my heart, I know my children
will always be on my side. This I am
certain of just as they are allies among each other. This is the result of the love I have given
to them.
My daughter
looks to me with all of the conviction that I have ever had and tells me that I
must continue to exist. I explain to
her, this pain can no longer go on. This
is the end. I give all that I am, all
that I was to my children.
I keep my
promise to Mike that I made years ago to tell him that I am dying. I tell him in one sentence that all those
things he never told me, I already know.
I tell my
other daughter that although our paths will part today, we will again join each
other. I tell her this because I know
this is true as I know my own name.
I receive
their blessing and their support. And if
I awake somewhere else in the great after life, I can tell them that I truly
know what love is, because just as I have shown it to my kids, they have
certainly shown it to me.
Saturday
By Mike Jackson
Days now seem
like years. I honestly don't know how
long I've been here. I receive word
through the gasps for breath that Mike and Amy are coming. I can see them once more. I can wait a lifetime if I must. Against the odds, against the wind, against
the pain. No matter what you do to me, I
can wait for them.
Dear
Brooke. You are my angel. You stand by me, watching all around me as
angry nothing growls at me from the edge of the fields. You watch over the sky for the storms and
protect and shelter my life. Just like
me, you cannot be taken down today. We
are an extraordinary people. Your
determination is remarkable.
I wait. Eternity passes. I wait.
My entire life plays by. I see my
hometown. I see the green hills behind
the park. The power lines cut through
the trees of the mountain. I see my
Father go to work to never return. I see
my lust for automobiles all over again.
My friends. Some of them dead for
25 years now are here. I marry Sandy
The system is
rigid and I embark on a journey to take me far away. In the gulf stream I take refuge, finding the
finest place I have ever known. Yet I am
unsettled. I am wild. No one I love is here until one day Mike
appears. My world changes. I am really no longer alone. Together we build the best relationship that
two friends could ever have. Brooke
joins us too. We are a family. I feel more alive now than ever before! For some time we are a solid family, very
certain, very sure. Amy come to visit
and still yet more family members. I
haven't felt so good in years. But slowly
things changed. Mike answered the call
to his wanderlust and Brooke got married.
Alone again, just like I always knew I would be.
Time passed,
days seemed like years. The pain crept
up during these years. No one has known
how bad it has been. Aging sucks. And voices call at me over and over
again. Someone stands holding the door
for me, but Brooke's voice tells me Mike and Amy are coming. I am not listening to the one holding the
door, he's just going to have to wait for Joe Jackson. He says I have to go, it is time. But I tell him as I always have told so many,
"I don't have to do anything."
Sunday
By Mike Jackson
How much
longer will I be here? I have no longer
a concept of time. My perception of
everything has changed. Time ticks away
but so much slower now. I drift out of
reality because I am tired of laboring to survive.
"Joe! Wake up Joe!
Your kids are here to see you."
I know I heard it. In my mind,
all is clear but I cannot outwardly communicate. It is so frustrating. I reach deep within and draw strength from
where there appeared to be none. I greet
Mike and Amy. I am so happy that they
are here. I know that there is nothing
compared to being with people who love you.
I at this moment have the clearest understanding of priorities in life. It is a stark realization of how wrong I have
been, how wrong the world has been!
In one last
battle my children finish the fight for me and show me that I no longer need to
fight, that I can certainly trust them to carry me away. I say good-bye the best that I can to
Michael, Brooke and Amy. You are the
finest people I have ever known. You
have made being a father an absolute honor.
I will always love you.Thank you for understanding.
Love
Dad
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