Friday, July 2, 2010


I look back across the span of these 8 years and trust that there must, must be something to understand. As I've said, I lost three sons in less than a year, fall and winter and spring. One to duty, for only a time, 5 1/2 years -- the others to chaos, evil and betrayal and chaos, forever.

Joey's 22nd birthday was a few days ago. Happy birthday, Joey -- love, Dad. His voice, undeveloped, comes to me still at odd moments -- but that young boy no longer exists. Neither does the man who stepped into the place of a father. I am another man now, who weeps sometimes because the wind touches his face. But not so much anymore.

Jason disappeared into darkness, perhaps coming somehow eventually into light. I wouldn't know.

The son of my body, my son, my pride, is a good man, 26 tomorrow, hard, young still, not better than me, but with far greater hopes.

I thought yesterday that I'd rather have no hope, than false hope. Pandora showed us that hope is created out of hardship. We learn wisdom when we find it. As for understanding, the prophets make it clear that wisdom and understanding are two separate things. Wisdom comes first. It must be sufficient.

Still, I'd like to understand.

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