What We Have Here Is Failure To Communicate

Bob is singing Knockin’ On Heaven’s Door and I am replaying the day. Thinking about how I called the vet twice to see if they had an update on the echocardiogram and the shock I felt when I got choked up.

The day began at 5 AM which is earlier than I normally rise because I heard the dog coughing and it triggered me a bit.

It sounded slightly wet and reminded me of the gurgling noise my father made at the end in the hospice. The nurses assured me Dad wasn’t uncomfortable but it took effort for me not to show my discomfort.

The sound made me think of waterboarding and when I heard a different version from the dog I was instantly alert. It reminded a bit of when my children were babies and I would listen ever so carefully to make sure they were ok.

There was more than one moment where I would place my hand upon their tiny bodies to make sure I could feel them breathe.

If the dog could speak English he’d tell you I have done that to him too and he’d tell you I have quoted Strother Martin more than once, “What we have here is failure to communicate.”

Most of the time he wags his tail at me and I ask him when he’ll learn to use his words.

A Place Where It’s Always Safe & Warm

The pain of the week and a hyperactive imagination that always dreams in 4D has pushed me to write and write hoping that whatever is stuck inside will be released.

Been several days of struggling to plant my feet and find my neutral place where I can observe events and choose how to respond instead of just react.

Someone misunderstood something I put out there and looked for meaning that didn’t exist. I got irritated by the accusation and shook my head because the suggestion was so off base.

It hurt to be so misunderstood and part of my ego was bruised because I am good at communicating. If I want you to understand something I’ll make it clear.

Got irked because I thought it was understood that if anyone tried to hurt them they would have to deal with me and I am capable of taking the offender apart.

I apologized twice and hoped they remember I don’t just apologize. I don’t just say sorry because someone thinks I ought to. Nor do I wear sweaters because another person is cold.

And then I remembered some of what has me fershimmeled is a lack of communication, that failure to communicate. So I said sorry twice to make sure I was heard and hope they understood my words didn’t have the meaning they thought.

I would have been direct if that was my intention.

****

Went inside the gym determined to shake off all that was going on and flung around the iron. Lifted heavier like I was a younger man and found myself looking at my face in the mirror.

Curvy lip smile because for that moment I felt time roll backwards. Tomorrow may hurt or it may be fine. I don’t feel sore today so maybe I have rebuilt more of the foundation than I thought I had.

They say when you’re working on dropping some extra pounds to adjust your caloric intake, move heavy shit and move around.

I have done that, but I have been helped by being upset and not having much of an appetite at times.

Tread Cautiously But Not Too Carefully

Somewhere around 2007 or so I had a conversation with my father about some potential opportunities and how I was struggling with what the best choice to make was.

I agonized over it and told him I wasn’t sure I hadn’t made a mistake by not moving more quickly. “If I could be as happy as I think I might it won’t be easy to pass up and I may regret it.”

He told me he’d support whatever decision I made and that if I focused on the children that might help crystallize it.

“But you probably won’t know if you made a good choice or a bad one because life rarely makes it that easy.”

I remember shaking my head when he said that and the smile he shared when he added that being an adult was a pain-in-the-ass sometimes.

Eventually I tried to push ahead and make the move I had been dragging my feet on but life got in the way. The Great Recession of 2008 caught me in its grip and for a time had its way with me.

When I broke free and rebuilt things I was grizzled, hardened and tougher in every way. But it all came with a price as life often does.

In exchange for the cost of paying Charon to bear me across the Styx I learned to tread cautiously but not so carefully that I missed opportunities.

Most of the time I feel like I have done a good job of following that and avoiding some potential pitfalls but there are times where it is impossible not to ask if myself some questions.

Impossible not to wonder if there was more I could have done in some areas or if I did all that I can do and things ended up as they did.

Was it a failure to communicate on my part or maybe it had nothing to do with me and I had to focus on playing the hand I was dealt because the card I thought was an ace was actually a joker.

Probably impossible to say, but not surprising to occasionally question.