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Frail

On January 2, I received word from my mother that Rod committed suicide. At the time, because it was maybe 5th-hand information there was room for question, for hope. It was recently confirmed.

Rod was a friend to the family on a few levels. He lived in the same small town as my grandparents, aunt and cousins in Australia. He was gracious, and giving. He had traveled all over the world to surf and while in Australia worked for the Post and volunteered at the fire department. I met him my last trip to Australia. Knowing his history of surf, I took full advantage of the opportunity and after showing interest with some well place questions, he offered to teach me. I took him up and, in return, offered to host him on the Grand Canyon Railway...if he ever came to the states.

Last year, he took me up. Out of the blue I got a call. He was coming to America and on his way to visit my family-who had since moved to the states (to Oregon)- he wanted to check out this Grand Canyon. So fresh off the plane from Oz, we welcomed him to the consummate American bachelor pad. My house is composed four bachelors, three are in bands and one (me) has a full-time job. Which means there is a lot of free time to do things like make a "party-switch". That is of course a light switch in the living room that when flipped immediately activates music, disco lights, and a flashing stop light.

So when I say we "welcomed him", I mean a roommate coming home and activating the switch while a jet-lagged Rod, who at best barely knew me, sat half asleep on the couch watching an apartment of American nutcases dance in the living room. It was a great start to the one week I had to know Rod. We had a fun time. He spoke often of his three beautiful daughters (all in their 20's) but was especially excited about the eldest, who he had just reunited with shortly before coming to America. After a week of frisbee golf, watching "Cops" and "Crazy Police Chases" (two shows he loved), and of course a trip on the Grand Canyon Railway, Rod continued on to Oregon where he stayed several months with my family.

And that's it. We weren't very close. I had only a pocket full of vived memories. But it was enough. Enough to call a person a friend. Enough to mourn.

It's almost hard to write. To imagine a sadness that drives a friend to take his own life... my heart is flushed with sorrow. It aches. It's a time like this when a person is drawn to pray. You hurt for the person who hurt too much. In any other situation you call. You comfort. You listen. You say you care. You walk along side and you tell him it's never bad enough. You are a friend.

But suicide is hopelessly unique. No one realizes his friend's situation is that bad. It is the act itself that sheds first light on that dark fact. And then it's too late. There is no release for the compassion that fills you. I find myself wanting to pray for him, to hurt along side him and tell him it's ok. I cannot.

I don't know what to do. How to mourn. How to approach God. I can pray for the daughters he was so proud of. For his friends. I can pray for those who were close. So much closer than myself. Whose hurt is so much more. But still it's hard to let go. It's hard to know, to accept it is over. I cannot grasp finality.

The walls have fallen
The key is turned
Coal and ashes
Intention burned

My heart is broken
No where to bleed.
My eyes now open
No thing to see.

Blank to tears
Cannot decide
Pain to static
Emotions collide.

Filled with compassion
Too late to pray
Aching for action
But too late to say

posted by Travelin' D @ 12:25 PM 0 comments

Start Spreading the News

Welcome to 2007. For some reason it's been more difficult for me to sit down and blog something interesting recently. That might have something to do with my coming out of retirement... but I'd hate for the first entry in 2007 to start off with such a depressing announcement so I will save that tidbit of life info for later.

Instead let's begin the first entry of the new year at the beginning. At the end of my previous blog, for those of you who had the patience and perseverance to make it through my last blog (which was pointed out to be the "longest ever written") I had to hustle out the door so I could make it to Times Square for the New Year. I arrived in New York at 5:30 am on December 29, where I met a friend who moved there in the summer to be a flight attendant. After a little nap and a stroll around Rockefeller Center, Times Square, and other sites I've seen on TV, we met up with some of Mandi's (my friend) friends at a local pub in Midtown.

This is where I met Steve. Steve was the boyfriend of Mandi's friend, who I found out the next day Mandi hardly knew. But that's the thing about New Yorkers, is anyone who is a friend of a friend is a friend, especially after a "few" drinks. "So where are you from?" "Arizona. Have you lived here long?" "4 years." "Do you like it?" "Yeah, it's great. I live one block from Times Square in a 35th floor apartment with a balcony." "...whoa..." yada, yada, yada and a drink or two later... "I could get you some passes my place for New Year's if you guys want?" "Uhm yeah... that'd be cool", is what I said but was thinking something a little more along the lines of: "Are you FREAKING KIDDING ME! HECK Yes, I want!" "Cool just call if you want them..."

Did he remember when we called? No. Did we still milk a couple of 35 floor passes to New Year to a guys apartment that actually was going up to Connecticut on New Year's? Yes. And that's where my last blog ended. But where I ended up when that clock struck midnight on New Year's Eve was right in the middle of Times Square (and one million plus people). Even better was the fact that we got into a section that was blockaded off for people who were probably standing around since 12:00 noon to get good positioning.At 11:15 pm when we made our way down the block to Times Square, we approached the blockaded section and my new best friend with the NYPD, where after waiting for almost one full minute we were secretly waived into the blockaded section. A perfect ending to a nearly perfect year.

There are some great stories to be told about New York, the city that never sleeps, except on New Year's Day. Stories about the subway and the linebackeresque drunk guy telling the entire car that "That's the kinda guy you don't mess with...black gloves...friggin Irish and Scottish... Nah, that's the kind of guy that's packin...We good, man, we good," which he said ofcourse referring to a big-smiling Derek. Stories about Broadway, Central Park, walking the Brooklyn Bridge and the streets of New York. But I can take a hint, my friends. So instead of another never ending blog entry, I will just tell you that New York is pretty freaking great. One of America's, nay the world's greatest. Happy New Year.

posted by Travelin' D @ 7:23 PM 0 comments