I quickly jumped into my car. turned on the ignition. put it into drive and drove away. drove away from my wife and daughter. the two loves of my life. on my way to see the other love of my life. my Mom. heart attack. fear sinking in the way it sunk in thirty-five years ago. the day we got the call that my Dad had a brain hemorrhage and was rushed to North York General Hospital. he died. I didn’t get a chance to say good-bye. thirty-five years later I want to say good-bye to my Mom. the person who raised me in good times and in bad. the woman who had to endure my troubles. my fights. my failures. my lack of direction and my lack of love and lack of respect. I WANT TO SAY GOOD-BYE ONE LAST TIME TO THE WOMAN WHO HAS ONLY WANTED LOVE BUT HAS ENDURED LONELINESS AND PAIN. I put my pedal to the metal and drove as fast as I could. Leonard Cohen playing loudly on the stereo. tears flowing down my face. in this moment nothing else mattered. bad skin. bad debt. bad people. bad rules and boring lives. none of it mattered. in an instant life changes. sometimes for the better. many times for the worse. the clock was ticking and I was speeding. sirens blaring. rain pounding down. as I drove I thought of being a kid again. seeing my Mom’s pretty face with a cool bandana wrapped around her thick dark hair and beautifully tanned skin. I thought of her and my Dad at the beach in Florida. I thought of all the cool parties at our cool house with loads of wine bottles and passed out men on our cool couches. I thought of all the soccer games she brought me too. I thought of all the hockey games and baseball games. I thought of all the jobs she had to do in order to put us into sports and bring us on trips. I thought of all of her long lost friends. I thought of all the pretty pictures with pretty smiles and pretty clothes. I thought of her and my Dad and all of their fights and all of their laughs. I thought of her learning how to drive and learning to laugh. I thought of all of her walks and all of her talks. then I thought of my Dad dying and seeing my Mom in fear. real fear. I thought of seeing my Mom the next day at Uncle Mac’s and Auntie Marion’s. bawling on the couch in her blue housecoat. I thought of my Mom’s tears. my Mom’s hug. I held on so tight. didn’t want to let go. I won’t want to let go this time either. life is way too short. I want to play with my Mom again. I want to be on her lap again. I want to go to school and have my Mom pick me up again. I want to see her after a hockey game and go out for dinner. I want to be in her bed again the way I was when I was seven. I don’t want my Mom to die. I want to say “bye”. “MOM…DON’T DIE. PLEASE MOM. DON’T DIE!!! I LOVE YOU SOOOOOOOOOO MUCH. I AM SOOOO SORRY FOR NOT TELLING YOU ENOUGH. YOU ARE THE GREATEST PERSON IN THE WHOLE WORLD. YOU ALWAYS DID YOUR BEST FOR US EVEN THOUGH YOUR LIFE WAS SO PAINFUL!!!”
I continued to drive. I drove through red lights and red stop signs. red was not going to stop me this time. tears already flowing down my face. I finally made it to the hospital. I pulled into the first spot that was open. I didn’t pay. I quickly ran through the emergency doors the way my Mom ran through the emergency doors thirty-five years ago. life is so bizarre. I asked the clerk at the front desk where Mairi McKenna was and she said in the emergency room 301. I thanked her quickly and ran as fast as I could down to 301. I just wanted to say good-bye. I ran and ran and ran some more. I saw 301 and burst through the door and found my Mom laying on the bed with her eyes closed. I jumped on the bed and shook her. “wake up Mom. wake up. don’t die. please don’t die!!!! MOM…DON’T DIE!!! DON’T DIE MOM…PLEASE!!!”
I held her so tight but she wouldn’t wake up. ever…never. I turned around and saw my brother standing there with red eyes and red tears flowing down his red right cheek. I stood there and didn’t move. neither did he. “WHY??? WHY??? WHY???” that’s all I could say. but there wasn’t an answer. there never is. such is life. and then it ends. not getting a chance to say “good-bye.” ever…never. I finally had the courage to move and took three steps toward my brother and wrapped my arms around him so tightly that he stopped breathing for a moment. he didn’t complain. he hugged me back. we began to cry…and cry…and cry…and cry…and cry. the lights then went out…so did the sound. so did life.
Category: Uncategorized
gone.
Jack Tait jumped off his shitty couch in his shitty house.. he heard a knock at the door. it was 3am and he was still quite drunk from the day before. he walked nakedly to the door and opened it up. a white man with a white suit handed Jack a piece of paper and then turned around and walked away. “hey you…who are you and what is this?” Jack screamed at the man. the man didn’t answer back. he kept walking and walking. the snow and wind blowing in his wrinkled face. “HEY…I’M TALKING TO YOU. WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS???” the man continued to walk. continued to ignore. “FUCK YOU. YOU HEAR ME. FUCK YOU!!!” Jack Tait hated people who ignored him. he also hated people who didn’t ignore him.
Jack Tait returned inside and closed the door behind him. he sat back on his shitty purple couch and opened up the letter. a blank face suddenly appeared on Jack’s beaten and weathered face as Jack read the note. he continued to read. continued to be blank. he quietly put the note down and walked out the door. he hopped on his blue tricycle and rode to the end of his driveway in the middle of nowhere. he passed the man in the white suit but didn’t say a word. some things are more important than others. Jack Tait rode and rode and then rode some more. his face covered in snow. after three grueling hours of riding in the snow and through crunchy puddles Jack Tait arrived at a lonely hospital in a lonely town. everything white. Jack nakedly jumped off of his tricycle and ran inside. his one ball bouncing around. he swung open the front doors and entered the hospital. he searched rooms and searched for people but failed on both searches. he ran down one floor then two and three and four and then suddenly found THE ROOM. he peeked inside and saw an old lonely lady laying on a shitty white bed. she was cold. sad. lonely. tired. pale. Jack said, “HI MOM.” Jack’s Mom said, “HI JACK.” “are you okay?” Jack continued.
“no Jack. I had a heart attack…well…not really. but something like it.”
“what do you mean Mom?”
“I had a cardio myopathy…they call it Broken Heart Syndrome.”
“really? broken heart syndrome.?”
“yes Jack. I’m old you know.”
“no you’re not Mom. you’re still young.”
“I’m eighty- six Jack. I’m going to die soon.”
Jack paused and looked at his Mom. his Mom looked back. two lonely people looking into the eyes of each other and wishing things were different. wishing they could live together again. play together again. eat dinners together again. watch hockey together again. have Christmas together again. go on trips together again. even fight together again.
Jack Tait walked up to his Mom and held her hand and kissed her on the right cheek. he said “I love you Mom. I really do. you are and have always been an amazing person. an amazing Mother. I love you so much.”
“I love you too Jack.”
Jack let go and began to walk away. his Mom focusing on his every move. Jack Tait was almost out the door when he turned around and stopped. he stared. he cried.
“I will miss you Mom… I will really miss you.”
and with that Jack exited his Mom’s life forever. a woman Jack knew for sixty years was suddenly going to be gone. not enough time for words. not enough time for redemption. not even enough time for one last dinner.
gone.
GUILT.
Jack Tait woke up alone and free. depressed and sad. he drank fourteen beers and one bottle of Jack Daniels last night and thought about his life. he thought about all the good times. the bad times. he thought about long lost loves and long lost friends. he also thought about lost opportunities and lost family members. he even thought about his Dad. he was one big old saggy sappy naked lonely man. Jack Tait decided to take a shit and drink some water. hoping his mind would stop thinking. stop reminiscing. it didn’t. no matter where he went or what he did he thought of the past. living alone in his mind and body. he had one or two friends but they were squirrels and even they were getting old and lonely.
Jack Tait closed his eyes and fell asleep.
suddenly he was back to his forties. he had two kids. one wife. one house. one nut. he even had a few friends. he was extremely horny and extremely happy. girls looked at him. he looked at girls. he went to concerts. got drunk. masturbated. and even fucked the odd time. Jack Tait wished he was twenty again when there were no commitments and little guilt. Jack Tait walked the streets of a big city and was STUCK. he could fuck young hot girls but would feel GUILT. he could jerk off to young hot girls but he would feel GUILT. he could leave his non sexual wife and two great kids but he would feel GUILT once again. he was a man stuck in guilt and stuck in life. he looked up to his heroes. Bukowski. Kerouac. Jim Morrisson. but he was not one of them. he was stuck in “average” land in an “average” world. society getting the better of him. the puppets winning the race. the bores controlling poor Jack’s mind. he sat. and sat. and sat some more. fully clothed and fully fucked. years passing by quickly. a man filled with love and guilt and anger and more guilt. Jack decided to lash out. he walked the streets looking for random fucks and random nights of drinking. he forgot about his wife and beautiful kids. he forgot about his shit job and shit boss. he forgot about everything shitty and lived life once again. he grew out his hair and grew out his beard. he even grew out his penis and grew out his one ball. JACK TAIT WAS ALIVE AGAIN. “FUCK EVERYONE AND EVERYTHING. I AM JACK TAIT AND I WILL FUCK YOU AND FUCK YOU HARD. PS…NO STRINGS ATTACHED!!!”
Jack Tait was happy. alive. his wife and kids were sad. depressed. they sat and thought about why their Dad would leave them. they also waited by their white door and hoped for a safe return. they waited and waited. cried and cried. they even played Crazy Eights and laughed once. days turned into weeks which then turned into months and eventually years. JACK TAIT WAS LIVING HIS LIFE AGAIN!!! JACK TAIT FUCKED. JACK TAIT DRANK. JACK TAIT JERKED OFF. JACK TAIT FUCKED SOME MORE!!! JACK TAIT WAS ALIVE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
after two and half years of fucking and sucking and drinking and puking and shitting and yelling and eating shit food and having shit conversation Jack Tait was alone once again. he lay on his crappy futon on the floor of his shitty apartment and looked up at the shitty ceiling. he was shaking and cold. he was also sweating and scared. he began to cry. he missed his old life. his old wife. his kids and his house. he missed his “average” life and “average” job. he missed his friends and his Dad. he was guilt ridden and lonely. he fucked many girls and drank many bottles of Jack. he lived free and lived hard but was suddenly STUCK in GUILT once again. TORTURE.
Jack Tait woke up alone on his shitty purple reclining chair in his shitty farmhouse in the middle of nowhere and looked at his wall of family photos reminding him of good times. lost times. happy times. he wished he could go back and change everything but it was too late. he is stuck in guilt now the way he was stuck in guilt then. nothing is worse than being stuck in guilt and stuck in shame. big heart equals big feelings and in a world filled with fake people and fake hearts Jack Tait remains alone and remains sad. REMAINS GUILTY AND REMAINS MAD.
Jack Tait fell asleep once again and hoped for a better dream this time.
poor Jack Tait.
TRUST ME = FUCK ME.
Jack Tait walked nakedly to the end of the world and looked over the edge. he saw nothing but emptiness and garbage. he witnessed one hundred and twelve deaths over the span of sixty years. some traumatic. some dull. some expected. some a complete surprise. he saw many people cry and many people die. nothing seemed to affect humans for more than three weeks. “life went on.” peasants pretended to care but Jack Tait knew that everyone was selfish. selfish people and selfish rules. selfish countries and selfish souls. “only the strong survive.”
Jack Tait dangled his right nut over the edge of the world to see if he would get any bites. he sat there for three days but nothing. humans were too busy to see poor Jack Tait’s right testicle. they were consumed by sales and bad tv. even the odd bad movie. Jack decided to pull his right nut up. “maybe next year I will get a bite.” Jack Tait began to walk back home. he walked nakedly through the cold air. cold winds. cold people. then he walked through the hot air. hot winds and hot people. all the same. one big glob of boredom. conformity. Jack Tait had more fun with his squirrel than he did with the human race. at least his squirrel was honest. she ran away when Jack approached.
after one hundred and eight days Jack Tait entered Keswick. five hours away from his shitty farmhouse in the middle of nowhere. he walked nakedly into the liquor store and grabbed a sixty pounder of Jack and walked straight out. no one even noticing poor Jack. he opened the bottle and took four big swigs. some bum outside asked for a sip and Jack let him take two. Jack said bye and then continued on his journey. most people live in their own bubbles of nothingness. family and nothing else. crap trips to florida and vegas. walmart and zellers. even the odd trip to tim Horton’s. Jack Tait travels the world. Jack Tait is the world’s most interesting man. he once met that old leather faced Dos Equis guy but he was dull. not interesting in the least. another lie by society. Jack Tait continued on his journey. he was both sweating and frozen. nervous and cocky. a man filled with contradictions. Jack Tait missed his blue tricycle. he lost it in a drunken stupor four years ago and could never replace it. similar to wives losing their husband’s to a tragic death. the good one’s are irreplaceable.
Jack Tait was a mere moments from his home when a big old black limousine pulled up to Jack and honked it’s big old horn. Jack reluctantly stopped and looked up. the back window opened up and a voice came out. “are you Jack Tait?” “yes…why?” “jump in.” “no way…the last time I did that some old greek man pulled down my pants and jerked me off. I blew my load but I still didn’t like it.” “trust me sir…I won’t do that…trust me.” Jack Tait ran. his one ball dangling in the wind once again. he knew that the words “trust me” meant “I will fuck you.” Jack Tait didn’t want to be fucked by some old weird rich white guy. he ran and ran and then ran some more. he heard CCR playing on a big loudspeaker at the county winter’s fair. he smiled and thought of Apocalypse Now. the limo chased Jack. Jack ran. limo chased. Jack was losing the race. he always does. the limo was now right beside Jack and the window opened up once again. “TRUST ME JACK. TRUST ME JACK. TRUST ME JACK. TRUST ME JACK. FUCK ME JACK. FUCK ME JACK. FUCK ME JACK. TRUST ME JACK. TRUST ME JACK. TRUST ME. FUCK ME. TRUST ME. FUCK ME. TRUST ME. FUCK ME.” Jack Tait stopped. limo stopped. car door opened. one leg out…two legs out. Jack Tait began to cry. “why? why? why did you do it?” “I don’t know Jack. I was horny I guess.” “but you should have fucked your wife…not me.” “i’m sorry Jack…TRUST ME…I am.” Jack Tait stood frozen once again. “hop in…I will drive you home.” Jack Tait…stuck once again. “okay.”
two hours later Jack made it home. he said “bye” to the man in the back of the limo. he also said “thank you.” he walked slowly and sadly up the long shitty driveway and walked into his long shitty farmhouse. he went to the fridge and grabbed another bottle of Jack and sat on his shitty purple reclining chair. he opened the bottle and then opened his mouth. one hour later Jack Tait was sleeping.
human connection always wins in the end.
Jack Tait sat on his purple reclining chair and thought about all of his childhood friends. he had a shit that was half out of his ass but he was enjoying the moment so he didn’t move. nice moments are to be cherished. suddenly there was a knock at the door and Jack jumped. he wasn’t used to knocks at his door. he hadn’t had one in fourteen years. panic set in. shit came out. purple reclining chair now filled with runny light brown water. Jack nervously walked to the front door. the only door. and stood still. stood silent. he put his right ear on the door and tried to listen. nothing. sweat pouring down Jack’s red face and shit still flowing out of his bum. Jack decided to take a chance. take a risk. “hello??? whose there?” silence. “hello…is there someone there?” Jack continued. silence continued back. Jack picked his right nostril and flicked the green snot onto the floor and then quickly and fearlessly swung open the door. nothing. nowhere. silence once again. Jack stepped outside. naked. dirty. alone. he walked around to the right of his rundown house. he walked and walked. he circled his home forty two times. still nothing. he saw his blue tricycle. alone. he saw his brown baseball bat. alone. he even saw his pet squirrel. alone. everyone alone in a world filled with people and noise. music and toys. distractions everywhere and yet everyone sits alone. Jack decided to pick up his baseball bat and smash the one thousand and eleven bottles of Jack Daniels. empties of course. he smashed and he smashed. broken glass everywhere. broken dreams and broken hearts. Jack Tait then decided to jump up and down. glass penetrating his shitty brown feet. blood and shit everywhere. Jack Tait was finally becoming a madman. the madman that he always aspired to be. void of conscience. void of love. void of people. void of rejection and void of emotion. Jack Tait wanted to feel but he no longer could. the booze finally catching up. he then dropped the bat into the big pile of old tools at the side of his house and walked back inside. bloodied and tired. sweaty and naked. he walked directly to the shitter and sat down. no toilet paper. Jack Tait sat for eleven minutes and then heard a knock at the door again. the air was filled with a shitty stench. Jack Tait ignored the knock this time. then another knock. Jack ignored it again. the knocks became louder. more frequent. KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK…it would not stop. Jack jumped to his feet and grabbed the nine iron that he kept under the sink to unplug the toilet. he gripped it hard and stomped to the front door. he opened the old door with conviction and BOOM. Jack stopped. Jack stared. Jack cried. Jack convulsed. Jack sweat. Jack screamed…and then Jack smiled. “is that you Mom? I thought you died? Mom? please. say something. MOM!!!” “i’m sorry son. I am so so sorry.” they both embraced each other. tears flowing from both faces. they held each other tight. they wouldn’t let go. “I will never leave you again Jack.” “I hope not Mom.” the night came and the big bright moon lit up the air. nothing. nowhere. but there stood Jack and his Mom. still hugging. still crying. still smiling. human connection always wins in the end.
notanotherphony. 