Dear Beverly

Just stopped by to say hello.

        You remembered me.

Always.

The first phone call.

The end for the little guy 

was at hand.

The long battle was over …

the cancer had won.

The second phone call.

It came a few days later.

Funeral arrangements

had been made,

it would be on Sunday, June 3.

You were upset.

The final phone calls,

on the afternoon of June 4.

The money was gone.

You were told that with 

the battle being over,

there was no reason to stay

in Irvine any longer.

You were frantic,

only $812 per month

in SDI to live on.

You were not invited

to make the move

to San Francisco.

$150,000 gone

in just two years.

You didn’t want

to be homeless.

There was panic

in your voice.  

I said calm down,

let me think.

The money

can’t be gone,

it’s there,

let’s think about it.

You couldn’t remember.

The drugs made

everything a fog.

If … if … if …

If I knew then,

what I know now,

I would have asked

to pick you up

for lunch the next day.

That would have 

stopped everything. 

But I didn't.

If … if … if …

If I knew then,

what I know now,

I would have picked

you up and taken

you straight to the

emergency room

at the nearest hospital.

You were dying of

congestive heart failure.

The lack of oxygen 

to your brain, 

coupled with the unrelenting 

regiment of drugs 

created such confusion for you.

You didn’t know it.

No one knew it.

It was just 

sundown dementia.

It was just the booze.

 

I didn't pick you up.

If … if … if …

If I knew then,

what I know now,

I would have asked

you for your bank records. 

I would have done an audit. 

I would have sent a copy

to your brother in Las Vegas

so that he could

have done one as well.

He tried to help 

after Fran left us.

But he was blocked. 

But I didn't

I didn’t do any

of those things.  

Instead, I told you that

you were not alone

and that I loved you.  

You said you loved me too.

Let’s talk; let me think.

We said goodbye.

A minute later

the phone rang,

I answered it and you said

that you just wanted

to hear my voice

one more time.

I didn’t think anything of it.

You had done that before.

You were funny that way.

The phone rang again.

Hang up.

The phone rang again.

Hang up.

The phone rang again.

Hang up.

The phone did 

not ring again.

You then proceeded

to take control of your life.

The Seroquel.

The Keppra.

The Prozac.

The Seproxetine.

All you could find.

It haunts me still.

It hurts so much.

So much I could

have done ... 

but I didn’t.

If … if … if …

If I knew then,

what I know now,

I would be

so much smarter.

But that’s not

the way life works.

That’s my guilt.

My pain.

Others have their own.

On some days it is

so hard to celebrate a life

when the sadness overwhelms.

This is one

of those mornings.

This is one

of those days.

Have a tune for you today

“Don't confront me with my failures
I had not forgotten them”

… enjoy.

Link:  Jackson Browne: These Days

Well I've been out walking
I don't do that much talking these days
These days-
These days I seem to think a lot
About the things that I forgot to do
For you
And all the times I had the chance to

And I had a lover
It's so hard to risk another these days
These days-
Now if I seem to be afraid
To live the life I have made in song
Well it's just that I've been losing so long

I'll keep on moving
Things are bound to be improving these days
These days-
These days I sit on corner stones
And count the time in quarter tones to ten, my friend
Don't confront me with my failures
I had not forgotten them