Do you want to know what’s hard?
I have not seen my Father since the hour of his death in the month of December back in the year of 1989.
And yes, I understand that dying is part of living. I know this all too well.
But I was just a kid at the time.
I had yet to live or live enough to understand the terms of life or manhood or what it really means to be a man.
And who would show me now?
I had to pick this up as I went along. I was only a boy at the time. I had more scars than most adults and the above average of my scars were deep but equally invisible.
I was young and 17 with too many things to confuse me.
Please someone tell me.
how the hell is this fair?
“You have to take it on the run, kid.”
“Life doesn’t care what you think!”
I was on the verge of manhood but at the same time, I was paying for the youthful ignorance and my angry revolution. I was hemmed up and held against my choice and facing the legal consequences of teenage addiction, alcohol use, heroin, and the crack attack or the epidemic that killed so many int he 80’s and yes, the list went on.
The Old Man never saw who I became, which is not to say that I became much.
But I certainly became more than what I would have been. I am more than I would have been, had the needle or the haystack been too deep for me to be found
(if that makes sense.)
Finding the lost child or the lost souls . . .
it’s a possible impossibility.
I know.
And I define this and “the needle in a haystack,” with the understanding that the saying “finding a needle in a haystack” might not translate anymore.
I expose this because age and years and the constant evolution of time, space, and people is an ever-moving machine.
Or to be simple with this, I was told by a younger colleague that no one talks like that anymore.
I heard my words whisper in my head, “What the fuck does that mean?”
“Old people talk like that,” is what the young colleague said to which, I had to shake my head because of course, I am amazed at the truth which is that I have become that old person.
I read a quote that says the one thing I hate about my age is that I am the same age as old people.
And another thing; I am older than my doctors now
I do not like this . . .
I do not like my doctor who tests my blood and my diabetes.
I am pretty sure that I have articles of clothing that might be older than him.
But I digress. . .
(like old people often to)
I used to know old people.
I never thought that I would become one of them. I never thought I would get old or be like that angry old man who used to scream, “hey you kids, get off of my goddam lawn!”
And this is not me entirely, but this is me enough to make me laugh.
I look back at the things my Father used to say and how I’d think to myself, “That will never be me!”
I guess my poorest estimation was that age is something that only happens to old people.
Well?
Ta-Da!
Here I am, word.
I have gray hair now.
I have gray hair in more places than one.
However, and in all fairness, I do believe I have aged quite well.
In fact, I must have aged well enough because the young colleague asked me how old I was.
Then he mentioned, “You don’t look that old.”
And I know this was supposed to be a backhanded compliment,
I know
This why I might have offered a slight reassurance that despite my age and the grays, I can and will impose a physical beating at will.
Another kind suggestion that I offered is the good thing about my age is life in prison won’t really be that long.
“So keep it up,” is what I offered the youngster whose smile turned to an uncomfortable.
Then I explained, “besides, I eat better in prison.”
Then I said, “let’s get back to work now, shall we?”
he agreed.
Ah capricious youth.
Fuck’em.
Do you know what else is hard?
I have not seen my Mother since the day of her death, which was back in the month of June in 2015.
I haven’t heard her voice since the week before she died.
Mom was not herself anymore. All the meds for her pain and all the surgeries wore her down lie an old fabric that lost its vibrance. She was ill for a long tie. And all the king’s horses and all the king’s men could not put Mom’s spine back together again.
And oops….
There I go again using an old story about Humpty-Dumpty because who the hell knows if the kids today know who Humpty-Dumpty is
Most of my family is gone in one way or another.
I am alone in more ways than I want to declare and I am here and slightly holding back a flood of emotion.
At the same time, I pose this lightly and lightheartedly because again, dying is part of living.
and pertly my living was hard and partly pure and partly good and partly sad.
It is hard to admit to my losses.
It is hard to admit to me self-inflicted damages.
Of course this is hard!
It is hard to admit to the wrongs, the crimes, and the sins I have committed.
It is hard to recognize the broken pieces of what I had at one point and how this will never come together again
It is harder for me to contemplate the rest of my life which may or may not be lonely, or spotty, or high and low.
I have no idea what today will bring.
I have no idea when the pain from yesterday’s loss will go away.
I know what death is and I know what dying alive feels like
But who doesn’t?
No one gets out of life alive and no one gets away unscathed.
but ah, there I go again . . . saying things that old people say
I agree that we miss the point too often and more often, we learn too late.
And yes, the saying is true.
“Ya don’t know what ya got until it’s gone!”
But I am of the opinion that if something is truly mine, than this will never be gone.
I chased too many dreams with a broken heart and I hoped and I wished and I prayed and I wondered, “is this it?”
No. I chased the wrong journey.
but I lived and I survived
Perfection has its own flaws and so, if anything is mine then this will always be mine.
Like you . . .You are mine
I did not lose my past life or my past love and nor was my past love what I believed it to be
There is no way it could have been because there were too many dishonesties to begin with, which is and was a two way street.
I was not the only one
but this is behind me now.
Therefore –
I have a mission
I have a dream
I have wants and needs
And while I have a vision of these things, I know that the faces are not so clear yet.
I want to see this
I want to meet my better fate.
I do . . .
But life is moving and so is time.
Dying is part of living
So is loss and so are the gains we find when we smarten up and learn our lesson.
The one thing I know and the one thing I really know –
Beauty never dies
Not true beauty.
Love never dies either.
Not true love
I gave a eulogy at a funeral. This was a long time ago.
I stood at a podium and then I referred to Albert Einstein when he said how energy can neither be created nor destroyed.
It can only change forms.
The hardest part is learning how to communicate with that energy after its form has changed
But when we find out how, the yes, the memories that used to bring us tears being a smile.
I wish this for us all.
Life is energy and therefore, so are the memories.
So are the facts that yes; you and I exist.
No one can erase us.
Not now and not ever.
No matter how small we are –
No one can reverse this.
Even if we are less than a microscopic blip or a tiny speck of time.
No one can say that we did not exist.
But I have this one thing to say –
I have existed for 54 years . . .
But now is not the time to exist anymore.
Fossils exist and so do old people.
I want to live.
I want to dance.
I want the music to play loud.
I want to be as outrageous as the crazy festivals of my youth.
I want to ride the Ferris wheel and hold hands with a beautiful girl and make out and hope to see if I can get a touch or a feel of something dangerous and pleasurable. . .
Nothing can stop me
Not even dying
I swear.
Youth is wasted on the young, they told me.
I agree
So let me be young again and let me never waste another once-in-a-lifetime chance.
or if I have to go before the courts . . .
Let my trial sound like this:
Bailiff: Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?
Me: I do . . .
The Prosecutor: Mr. Kimmel, can you tell the courts where you were on the day in question?
Me: Yes.
The Prosecutor: Mr. Kimmel, please elaborate and tell the court where you were on the day in question.
Me: I was picking flowers.
The Prosecutor: You?
Me: Yes. ME!
The Prosecutor: (mocking me): You were picking flowers?
Me: Yes. I was picking flowers.
The Persecutor: And Mr. Kimmel, why was someone like you picking flowers?
Me: Have you ever been in love after you were destroyed? and have you ever seen the eyes or the face of a beautiful angel and get weak when she talks to you?
The Prosecutor: Mr. Kimmel, the case and the question is not about me or any of the members of the court or the jury.
Me: Well, I say if you don’t know –
Then you’ll never know.
What I know is this:
Real men, tough guys, or men who have been hurt or abused or men who have seen things and experienced awful pain and those who saw death, up close and personally, and men who are man enough to admit their faults and crimes know how to be delicate and gentle
The war’s over, kid . . .
I say this to myself.
Divorce and the losses were enough.
The financial cost and the lawyers finally “dropped the big one,” which again, this is an old reference to “the big one,” meaning the biggest bomb ever dropped in wartime history.
The atom bomb over Hiroshima ain’t got shit on me . . .
We have advanced and we have bigger, more dangerous bombs now.
But I relinquish mine.
Take my weapons . . .
As I see it, I have been at war long enough
Do you know what’s hard?
facing the fears of loneliness . . .
worrying about being dead
or being afraid that I might die, undiscovered
and no one will notice
and no one will realize until the stink hits the hallway . . .
Do you know what’s harder?
realizing the wealth has all been squandered and wasted
and waking up to the realization that I might never get another chance
but to hell with it
I still have to try
even if I only try just one more time . . .
I just have to do it
You know?
The Written Addiction 