And this is what I learned…

I held my grandma’s hand as she died. She was never supposed to be on life support, but they kept her on until the family could see her. I got there last. I closed the diner up early, got on the motorcycle and hauled ass to the hospital where she was sitting upright, completely unable to move, speak or breath. She was there, however.

I held on to her arm and her hand. I closed my eyes and tried my best to talk to her, but all she could do was point her finger to the door. I knew what that meant. A few minutes later, I felt her leave. Everything in the room got a little brighter… I looked out the window and knew right then that she had left. Her body was no longer struggling to breathe. It was nothing more than a vessel. As we all are.

In trying to figure out what the holy-hell to do with myself, I think back to that day. When she was there, giving every damn thing she had to hold on for even a few more minutes, there is only a few things that really matter. It was what her and grandpa did. It’s what I realized is ultimately the most important thing in my life.

Before I die, I not only want to have a good story to tell I want to accomplish these three things… Build a Family. Build a home for my family. Help others build the same. Everything in-between is just pages in a book.

Tonight, I stopped by to grab a bite to eat from a fast food joint. I saw a homeless guy laying on the ground next to his wheelchair. I bought a few extra burritos and parked in front to give him some food. Looking at his almost empty bottle of vodka, various blankets and random things, I realized everything else in this world didn’t matter to this guy. I got him back in the wheelchair with the help of another passerby that saw me struggling with him.

He was lost. He was scared of the bags of blankets tied to the handles. He had no clue what was happening. In a weird way, it didn’t seem so unfamiliar to me.

As I drove off, I looked back at him and something took a hold of me. This isn’t about realizing that we all need to help one another. Dead horse is beaten… This is about realizing that at the pace I’m going right now in life, I could only hope that a random person would help me if I was ever in a position that I couldn’t help myself.

It’s time to start realizing what’s important for our own lives. Damnit…

Still…

I find myself in the same damn spot in life all the time. I wonder if I actually don’t mind it. Being single is actually an understatement. I love people, but I’m constantly going alone. I don’t mean that in a pouty whiny fashion either. I live for myself too often and it gets old. Then I’m reminded of times when I tried to live for someone else, and I got fucked. Prime example, family. It’s ok though, because in something like five billion years the earth will be consumed by the sun and we will be nothing more than…nothing…

After a marathon of a day (15 hours of work and school) I decided to go to my new local watering hole. Guinness is my poison and a good crowd keeps me coming back. For some the toilet is their thinking spot. For me, it’s the bar. A good bar. I’m happy with where I’ve decided to take my life currently but I’m not happy with certain aspects that should have been different.

I decided to open a small little diner in my pseudo-hometown. The support I was expecting was nothing more than a hand ready to be held out with the palm to the sky waiting for a handout. I sold it not because it wasn’t working, but because I wasn’t happy. Plain and simple. I’ve burnt a lot of bridges with it and quite honesty I don’t care at this point. The demons inside me have decided to speak out a bit tonight. Not because of the time at the bar (I only had one Guinness), but because of the overwhelming fatigue from the last few weeks. (And really, the last ten years of my life)

The last visit to my parents was quite sobering for me. For the zillionth time I recently turned my life upside down (flight school)… Seeing my parents after a few years amongst hate-filled emails of guilt and shaming to me, I couldn’t have wanted a faster exit. Everything I’ve done and every decision I’ve made is my fault. Got it. I sold my place still owing money.. Got it…. I paid off people that truly helped along the way. When all is said and done, I was sitting in a house that I’ve never felt comfortable in. Ever. As I’m looking up at the thousands of dollars worth of Thomas Kinkade paintings and the ridiculous amounts of trinkets and random shit, I hear the undertones of guilt being thrown my way. “Oh, the big news…. Me and your dad are going to Ireland for… ” if I had a gun I would have pulled it out, polished one round, stuck it in the chamber and pulled the trigger to my fucking temple. Reminiscing of the time I got my ass beat to a pulp when I was a kid and dropped my wallet on the ground after tossing and catching it like a baseball. I was informed to never ever disrespect money.

Welcome to the first explanation of a part of my blog that I’ve left out this whole time. Ever seen the movie American Beauty? Totally different story line but same sort of effect.

I’m tired now and feel like sleeping. As much as I haven’t shared too many details of a part of my life I hate, there’s plenty more waiting to be vomited out someday. Because of some other really good things in my life right now, I’m finally content with my path. I have no clue what it is, but living for myself once again is an amazing feeling. Guilt is waiting right outside for me though…