A Fond Fairwell

Not much time today, work is busy. My class from work got together this morning for a small memorial to our friend and coworker F. It was great in that no one tried to make her into something she wasn’t. We talked openly and honestly about the person we all knew and loved. We laughed and had a great time. We also caught up w/each other on our lives etc. It was a good morning.

Otherwise, just busy. This is my last day w/my trainee and I am so happy. I love her to death and she is doing fine but I’m just tuckered out. I’m looking forward to a blissful weekend (my weekend starts Sunday) of doing absolutely nothing. Well I shouldn’t say nothing. I have a big test this Tuesday and I haven’t had any chance to study. I plan to spend all day Monday studying like a fiend!


As expected, work is a mess today. Everyone is still very upset about the loss. We are doing our best to pick up the pieces and move on.

A HUGE thank you to everyone for the kind comments and emails. I appreciate your kindness and good thoughts. It is times like this that I am reminded of just how very stressful this job can be. I’ve always been lucky in that I don’t stress much. However, there are times when it even gets to me.

Tomorrow, my group is getting to have a Memorial for F. We are inviting everyone from work but it will mainly just be the core group of classmates.


Boy the shit is really rolling this week. I just discovered Roblog‘s ex passed away this week as well. If you don’t read roblog, his ex has been battling advanced HIV infections for some time now. It looked like he was on the mend as of late. I guess things must have taken a turn for the worse. If you can, take a moment to pass on good thoughts to rob. Nothing can take away the anguish but I believe love and the human spirit can endure the pain of death.

Death, itself, has been everpresent in my own life. I lost my mother at 7, my first love at 18, my grandmother at 26, a dear friend at 30, and most recently my father at 34. These are by no means the only losses in my life but the most significant. Even as a kid I saw death differently. I wondered why people were so sad if they really believed the dead were in a better place. When my mom died, I kept asking everyone when we could go visit her. Oh don’t get me wrong, I know if I lost Bobby or Trevan I’d be a mess. I’d bawl like a baby for awhile, you betcha. But afterwoods, I’d know they were still out there. I wouldn’t see them anymore but I’d carry the knowledge of their continued existence w/me thru my own life along w/my memories of them.

And as cheesy as it sounds, this song by Celine Dion always seems to cheer me up. So, listen if you want and take a moment to reflect on all the people you’ve lost in your life. Be thankful for what they brought you in this life and that you are blessed enough to still be here.


I write this today w/a great sadness in my heart.

I just found out one of my classmates from work committed suicide earlier this month. She recently moved away, to Texas of all places. Beyond being a classmate, she was my friend and a sister in arms (meaning she was a lesbian). Kristaki (another classmate) called me to give me the sad news. I am so shocked I just can’t put it into words. This comes as a complete surprise to everyone. Life seemed to be really going her way as of late.

I guess I should try to put things in perspective here. I’ve been at my current job w/emergency communications for almost 5 years now. My class carries some distinction in that not only do we have the highest retention rate in the last 10 years, we were and still are very close as a group. We spent a lot of time supporting each other and working together to get thru the training program. We became incredibly close. We got to know a lot about each other and felt stronger for it. And we were as diverse a class as they come. Old, young, men, women, gay, straight, black, white, asian, latin, you name it we had it. Out of 18, 11 of us made it thru and 9 of us were still together up until very recently. We often brag about how good we were to all the newer classes. It has sort of been a badge of honor I guess.

How would I describe F? She was what you would call a strong-willed lesbian. Very opinionated and vocal (how could I not love her!). She liked to put on this butch bad lesbian appearance but underneath the thick skin, she was a kind considerate woman just trying to make her way in the world. She’d give you the shirt off her back if you really needed it. She often championed the underdogs of society and pleaded their case w/a fierce single-mindedness that would not be ignored. We sometimes butted heads as strong wills tend to do but we were always friends beyond it.

F recently bought a new house in Texas and up and moved w/her girlfriend. We were all sorry to see her go but she seemed happy and life was looking up. Obviously, there was some trouble in her life that none of us knew about. A trouble so deep that even her closest friends didn’t know it. I can’t even guess what it could have been. All I know is the shining light that was my friend F is no more.

F, wherever you are, your friends miss and love you still. Whatever tragedy befell you in this life we hope you’ve escaped in the next. You may be gone but you are not forgotten.

Passing Thoughts

My father died in his sleep Saturday, February 26, 2005 at 2:45 am central time.

A long tumultuous chapter of my life has reached it’s end. How do I feel at this moment? I don’t know.

So many emotions are warring for control, I’m not sure the answer. Part of me is happy. Happy he is no longer suffering. Happy my brothers are no longer burdened night/day w/his constant care. Happy they are no longer forced to see his frail humanity passing before there eyes. What else? Pain, remorse, regret, loss?

How do I feel at this moment? I just don’t know.

A Moment In History

Today marks the death of my mother. She passed away from lung cancer Feb. 23rd, 1978.

While I no longer get worked up about it, I still try to remember her. She died when I was only 7 years old. I remember the year I turned 15 thinking how unfair it was that I’d been alive longer w/o her than w/her. I took it really hard that year. The only source of comfort was my first love who tried his best to ease my pain.

It’s funny, I seemed to suffer more that year than I had at her passing. I’m sure it is related to my becoming an adult but it hurt a lot.

So, today is in remembrance of you mom. If you’re still up there don’t judge me too harshly, I’m doing the best I can.

Laughter & Tragedy

I know I should probably be writing about the tragedy that happened overseas but everyone else is beating it to death, literally. I find myself trying to shake the bitter cold that has welled up in my heart by focusing on the good things in my life. Life has been a bit rough for me lately but, I still have a roof over my head, food in my stomach, and job to keep me in the first two. I definitely know things could be a lot worse for me. I could be left cold, alone, homeless, and afraid after a tidal wave beyond imagining wiped out everything and everyone I loved.

So I did my part by sending clothing, canned food, and even some old gadgets to help those who lost everything and then some. Did you? Take a moment to scramble up just a few pieces of unwanted items and send them

The tragedy of the last week should teach us a lesson. For all our might we are still tiny insignificant flecks of flesh in the grand scheme of things. The even harder truth is that many of those who died could have been saved by a simple warning system. Why is it that we are such a reactive society? I mean time and time again we wait for a problem to bite us square in the ass before we deal with it. You would think as “evolved” and “educated” as we like to pretend we are, we’d be much more proactive about things. Just my two cents.

Rather Depressing Note

I was scrolling thru my random reads as usual and came across this one. The fact that he felt compelled to go this far shows just how warped our sense of right/wrong is in this country.

(Raleigh, North Carolina) A U.S. National Guardsman who pleaded guilty to killing a 17-year-old Iraqi said he shot the young man 11 times after they had sex in a guard tower, a North Carolina newspaper reports, citing court-martial records….

At about 10:30 p.m. local time, Merida shot the teen 11 times with his carbine…

…Merida first told investigators the teen demanded money at gunpoint. Later, he said he killed the boy because he forced him to have sex. In a third interview, Merida said he was angry after the two had consensual sex.

A young man lost his life over a disgruntled homophobe after a mutual sexual encounter. What are we teaching our children that they harbor so much guilt they could resort to homicide? Of course, the christians will be all up in arms about how “we lured him into it”. It is these types of stories that make me doubt my faith in humanity’s ability to rise above its base animal instincts.

Giving Up

After an argument today with the bf (or ex-bf I should say), it has become very clear to me he has no desire to reconcile and never has. With that in mind, I have given up any hope of salvaging our 3 1/2 year relationship. Most of my anger last night was over this very revelation. I must confess I’m still mystified as to why he doesn’t even care to try. Today, his only feeble attempt at a reason was “we’ve grown apart.” In the breadth of the last year, we’ve somehow grown apart. I could insert some really mean things here but what’s the point? It won’t change anything and really wouldn’t make me feel any better either.

I also discovered he is rather annoyed that I post my feelings on this blog. Several of our mutual friends, along w/a gaggle of nosey watchdogs, read it and run back to him wanting details. I make no apologies for the way I feel. I’ve said nothing here that I haven’t told him face to face. Is he afraid people will judge him based solely on my comments? If so, that’s his problem. This is my way of working thru the pain and disappointment of being discarded like yesterdays trash. I’ve been there for him thru thick and thin. I encouraged him when he was down and I applauded him when he was up. This is what I get in return.1 After the way he so casually dismissed the life we had together, I’m not even sure I could take him back now.

The only thing left to do now is put it behind me, pick up the pieces of my broken heart and move on.

  1. Do I sound bitter here? I think so too []

Tragedy of Childhood

** I copied this story from an old webpage and I’ve condensed it way down for clarity/simplicity. Even still, its a bit lengthy so you might wanna grab a cup of ‘joe’**

First let me say as tragic as my childhood was w/my foster family it could have been a lot worse. Kinda hard to believe but I’m digressing….

Birth – 1yr:
I was born in the early 1970’s to the not-so-proud parents of Wanda Clem & Roy Seymoure. My mother met my father while he was in the service and after he was discharged they married. I was the 2nd sibling at the time and an unwanted/unexpected pregnancy. My mother & father were hard core drug users before, during, and after her pregnancy. I was born 2 months premature and addicted to several drugs. I spent the first 9 months of my life in a hospital surrounded my machines and strangers. By some miracle, my mother managed to get me home. I’m sure the laws then were much laxer in relation to child/drug abuse. You’d think the issue w/my hospitalization would have been a wakeup call to my parents. Nope! My parents continued their drug habits. I would be left alone in an empty closet or an open dresser drawer for hours sometimes days at a time w/nothing but a pillow and bottle. When CPS (Child Protective Services) found me, I had a diaper rash from my neck to ankles. I was returned to the hospital for 2 months for severe dehydration and related ailments along w/multiple contusions/bruises all over my body. This time I was not returned to my parents. As luck would have it, my real mothers best friend, told my foster mom/dad about me. My foster mother told me once, she took one look at me and fell in love. My adoption was just a matter of formality after that. So I went from being the unwanted son of Mr/Mrs. Drug Heads to the first and only adopted child of Mr/Mrs White Trash Family Robinson. (yes, I’m poking fun here)
Continue reading Tragedy of Childhood