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Rated: ASR · Campfire Creative · Appendix · Family · #1570479
I wrote this on the day one life ended.
[Introduction]
Start of something new.

Sean calls
Wanna hangout? I say yea. We make plans for me to visit for an overnight fiesta after work.

I get out of work, head to Farmington. Dad calls in Livermore and says I need to be homebound by 5am, only to chauffer him to Thompson on business, one that includes repossessing used cars.

Plans change, instead of spending night in Livermore- I enjoy a fine evening with my best friend. We converse the class he had. Professor exclaims soul mates don’t have to be lovers.

Then the notion of his possible slumber at my home front arises. He comes to Poland for the nights end.

I wake 4:45am to dad’s hootin’ and hollerin’. Get ready! I go to the living room dressed in pajama pants and a shirt one size too large. He pulls out a gun* and shows me the clip, automatic something or rather. He asks me if I wanted to look through the scope… I declined fatigue once again sinking in.

We leave the home front slightly passed 5:15am, in a hurried scuffle after waiting for dad to finish using the bathroom. Needing fuel, we head into Auburn

Get gas with boss’s credit card.
Talk about Ian. Marriage. Mount Washington. Church. Pastor. Who. Platters. Walking down the isle.

Head into Thompson. No truck there…. Talk about deadbeats… then bad exboyfriends… haha… then Ian again. Good things.

Come home. I go pee. Go to my computer. Write Ian an email, after looking up Mt. Washington Hotel. Send him a link, do a myspace survey. Check to see Sean still deep within slumber.

I fall back asleep on makeshift bed of foam chair and blankets. Wake around 10 before 10. To see Sean staring with a smile

Look up to see if my camera had really come, or if it was all a dream. Sadly Sean’s camera was lain upon the bookcase, no d80 today.

I pep up my step; ask my best friend if he would care to join me for a tanning session. He graciously accepts. Bums of the beach we’ll be. Yes sirE. We’ll never be lonely towards the rest of our lives.

We go tanning. Bake. Burn. Sizzle. Come home. Mail lady is by my truck as I pull in. She claims to have a few packages! CAMERA!? No Nancy Drew, no camera for you.
Sadly I have to work at 1pm, and best friend had early after noon plans with an old one from the farm.

Shortly after Sean’s departure I have sensation, slight tingle and whoosh goes the toilet.
My eyes play tricks on me, so I fear what I see and welcome what I don’t. He looked a little dead, but he’s a old man. Wrinkly and restless. Sign of breath? No sign. Yet focus wasn’t an option.

I asked mom, I said- You might want to look in on him, and make sure. Not to make you fearful, but just to make sure.

Few minutes pass. I hear her footsteps. Bump bump bump bump, I run after her to be beside her just in case. Sensation again. Dad she says. Dad, it’s almost 12:30… are you getting up soon? No response. Cold to the touch. Grey to the sight. Eerie to the composite* placebo we call life

DAD comes a short gasp followed by a soft cry. She touches his leather, grazing her delicate fingers across his less disgruntled features. His mouth slightly open, as if it were in mid inhalation.

What am I going to do? I don’t know what to do.

His wife passed 12 years before him, not even two rooms down. Another peaceful beginning. Sleeping. Drifting. Awakening. Like a twinkling star.

I hold her as the gears churn. What in the hell? How in the hell? His nails are black from heart failure discrepancies. He passed in his sleep. Peacefully. Hello again.

I’m sorry is all I could muster under my breath. Not sure of how to react. Dead man laying in the bedroom, bedroom used to belong to every other family member- but myself.

I call my dad. He tells me how he talked to George this morning almost directly before we left. He leaves work to be with family. Remaining relatives are called. 911 is dialed. School Cop Sampson at my doorstep. Fifi and Savannah get locked up. Ha. Shitty dogs. Soon there after, fire truck, ambulance, counselor, emts, paramedics, and their handy dandy barney bags. As fate would have had it, he’s dead. Let him lie. Go home, enjoy your day- hold your family.

Family friends, and more family arrive. Tears are shed. Fears of a nervous breakdown linger. Who’s paying for this? Did he leave anything written? It’s easy to see the dishonesty in unaffected faces. Dishonest care, dishonest connections. Lame. But it’s their job.

She runs through the doors, kicks off her shoes. His only biological granddaughter. Despising the man in parts, until the day he died. Then again, we all had our opinions. And often times chuckled at the mere thought of him slipping on a patch of ice, yadda yadda, harmless internally mental teasing.

I can’t take it. Let’s take a walk down yonder the sand patch. Let’s spark life to bowl today’s death. Let us listen to the voices. Let us listen to the fears. Let us listen to the hopes. Let us hear. Let us feel.

Let us question. Let us live to be born again.

I’m not a religious woman within laws of religion. But I do believe when one passes into the next form of intelligent being- I believe those who served closest in his overall time, will go with.

I believe in soul mates. I believe in Marriage. I believe in rebirth.

Men came. Took the body away. Questions will be answered. Flesh will be chilled. A spirit will remain.

My Solider has the chance to muster in a few words before I slam my phone down to do something. I forget he’s there. I get a second chance. We talk.

He tells my mom he’s sorry for her loss.
A spirit is lifted.
A few in fact.

We talk about our plans. Our start. Our wedding. Our lives. Our Life.
I thank god. Whoever you may be. For him and this placebo.

In a nutshell. I welcome death and the magic of beginning.




Rest in Peace; George H Doucet

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