Posts Tagged ‘Colonel’

Whatever Happens To You

August 20th, 2016

Whatever happens to the deceased?

I’ve had time to think about the dearly departed and this is what I have learned.

The deceased return to the universe.

They become a part of our environment.

Drops of morning dew,

flakes of volcanic ash,

atoms shifting throughout this blue ball of rain called Earth.

Matter changing throughout time,

always surrounding us,

never being far away.

In our lungs and in our nostrils

as well as our memories and dreams.

I can conjure up the loved ones I’ve lost.

Every time I sweat from hard work.

Each time I cry a tear of joy.

When I play a song, I wiggle the air molecules around me.

I can always touch the people I lost.

It’s Difficult

September 11th, 2015

I am moving in with my mom soon. I think I’ll be moving in with her and my stepfather next month. We want to get me moved in before the holidays start.


I have lived in Fordsville most of my life. I moved here when I was in kindergarden, then moved away for a year. I came back when I was in second grade and lived here all the way until I was nineteen when I moved into a WKU dorm. I lived in Bowling Green for three years. I lived in Los Angeles for about twenty months.


I will be leaving Fordsville, but more importantly I will be leaving this trailer which I have been in since 2003. When I got back from L.A., I moved in with my grandfather and my cousin. My cousin George got married and started a family. My grandfather passed away last year.


September used to be my favorite month. I always loved the weather cooling down and the leaves changing color on the trees. I loved the brisk feeling at night and I loved how pretty the days were without being indescribably hot.


I used to love September.


The last five weeks of my grandfather’s life was spent in a hospital. He was in pain and got surgery for a hernia that had been bothering him for some time. His body, which was already in decline, went through its’ final stages.


My mom’s birthday last year, we both sat with him in his room. He and I sang “Happy Birthday” to her. He sounded tired.


The hospital supplied us with beverages and snacks as we sat and watched our patriarch on his death bed. If you go to the hospital to visit someone and walk by a table that has snacks, cokes and coffee in a pot, don’t swipe a soft drink or anything like that because that stuff is reserved for families who are watching a family member in their final moments.


September is so beautiful during the day. I looked out the hospital room and saw the grass outside and it was so green and vibrant. The sky was the right kind of blue and the sun looked warm and comforting.


The week before he died, I went with Mary and Jon to a WWE show in Nashville. I still talked as if I thought he could pull through one more time. It was a good show. We sat in the third row. I yelled at the wrestlers but I didn’t swear because there were kids around. I swore during the main event because it ended in a disqualification due to outside interference.


Jon passed away June 1st. I think about him every day. My grandfather has been gone nearly a year now and I still think of him every day. I sit in the trailer I shared with him and I want to leave. I want a new start and I’m taking it.


The old me would be embarrassed at having to move back in with my mom. I feel like a dog that’s been kicked around in the street and I don’t even care. I’m lonely. Living with people will be an improvement. I’ll have my own side of the house. My own shower. My own kitchenette. Mom will want to me to be her “Dancing With The Stars” TV buddy but I can probably manage that. “The Bachelor/ette” is where I draw the line.


Nobody comes to see me. This is still his house to everybody, only he’s not here. I can’t afford to see everybody and everybody has their own lives and schedules and it’s harder to make time. Nobody wants to see the empty spaces. I understand but I’m still here.


I can’t wait for October. I can’t wait to leave.


#700, A Eulogy, A Love Letter

June 17th, 2015

This is the seven-hundredth post on the Kentucky Prophet website.


I have not been in a writing mode lately so I will take the time to share and link to Young Mary’s Record and the eulogy she wrote for her late boyfriend, Colonel Jon Hensley, which she read aloud at his funeral. It is funny, sad, touching and long-running like any goodbye worth bidding. No one knew him better over these last few years. Jon and Mary barely had two years together but they were closer than any couple I know. Tracy and Hepburn? Captain and Tennille? Jordan and Pippen? Amateurs, compared to Jon and Mary.


A few snippets from Mary’s eulogy, which you should read in full.


. . . he’d already been off the phone and heard me inside talking to the landlord and he knew just how my voice raised when I was happy and which one of my comments were genuine and which ones were fodder and he hadn’t even needed to come to the doorway.  “I can always read you,”  he told me.


The thing about Jon is – if he knew I had such an audience – he’d want me to have spent none of this time talking about him.  He’d have wanted me to tell you about how his mother and sister are the most beautiful and his daddy was the strongest.  He’d have wanted me to tell you about his Shooter Jennings and about how he is the most fearless  talented musician and the most loyal friend – He’d have wanted me to tell you about his Wanda Jackson – the first female to ever record rock n roll – the apple of his eye.  He would’ve wanted me to tell you that in 1980, Merle Haggard became the only non-jazz musician to be on the cover of DownBeat Jazz Magazine.   And how Dwight Yoakam is a revolutionary.  And how Marcy Playground Sex and Candy is the best pop song.  And how Bob Dylan did not suck on Letterman and if you thought so, you just don’t get it.


I laughed yesterday here in this funeral home and I saw a woman look at me, confused.  I could almost read her expression – wasn’t that the 30 year old widow? I worried immediately.  Like every other time, I’d found myself uncomfortable in social world, I immediately wished for Jon.