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On this day you are in my
heart and on my mind.
You remembered me.
Always.
It rained.
It rained hard on the way
to Newbury Park.
December 7, 2009, a day I
will never forget.
“Come, Fran needs to see
you.”
It was a simple message,
but its meaning was
crystal clear.
She was dying; the cancer
was back.
Worse, he had turned your
son against you on Nov. 16.
I forwarded his email to
you within minutes
of receiving it. It broke your heart.
Please, let me respond,
he needs to know the truth.
He needs to get his butt
out there and hear it from Fran
before it is too late.
But you wouldn’t do it.
He needed to hear of the
constant attacks.
He needed to hear it from
Fran!
No, you kept saying no.
You didn’t want to hurt
him.
Hurt him?
Gina Court, last
“dwelling” on the right.
The rain fell in
buckets. Dark; gloomy.
The perfect day … in so
many ways.
Fran set in a chair in
the living room,
her back to the door, she
was
weak, tired and with much
on her mind.
She didn’t get up to
greet me.
I walked around, leaned
over and gave her a hug.
Hugged you too. You smiled.
You were exhausted.
Between the never ending
attacks,
the cancer and your own
issues,
yes, issues, you were not
looking well.
Pasty white; sad …
beaten.
You and I would have
lunch
and Fran would meet us
around 2:30.
It was all set that we
would hook up
at the Stagecoach Museum
across the street
from the mobile home
park.
She had a doctor’s
appointment at three.
You already knew what the
news would be.
It was just a formality.
Before we left, she asked
you to give us a moment.
You wandered off to your
room.
She spoke of her fear for
you.
She was direct, her
meaning was clear.
She knew a storm was
coming
and there was nothing
more she could do.
She was also saying, in
her own way,
Goodbye.
The rain fell hard on the
short drive.
Just getting parked and
inside was
a task … not getting
drenched.
We sat in a booth across
from each other.
We chatted. Small talk at first.
You ordered, we ate, we
talked.
There was a lot on your
mind.
You were lost and
over-whelmed.
The storm was already
here and you knew it.
You’d email me as soon as
you had news.
You could have written it
right there and then.
It was a long lunch,
so much to say; so little
time.
The rain had stopped and
you
could see clearing skies
in the west.
Soon we sat in the car in
the parking lot
of the historic
Stagecoach Museum,
an old hotel on the route
between
Los Angeles and points
north.
It was a museum now for
tourists.
There was a nice park
there too.
We had sat there on sunny
days and talked.
The years hadn’t been
kind,
but your spirit was still
there.
And you had the
protection of your mother,
she gave you a place to
live; shelter,
but that was about to
change.
Your mother had much to
say
about what he had done to
you.
She was not in a mood to
be charitable
or forgiving … she hated
him.
No bones about it … no
mincing words.
Hate; hate would do just
fine.
The rain had stopped; we
talked.
We waited in the car; you
smiled.
And soon, too soon, your
mom arrived.
We got out, she got out and
walked around
to the passenger’s side,
you would drive.
I followed her, hugged
her and looked in her eyes.
They smiled back at me …
I should have hugged her
longer.
Hugged you too. Kissed you.
Reminded you that you
were not alone.
“I love you.”
Should have hugged you
longer too.
The sun was breaking
through the clouds.
This storm was over; the
rain was done.
You followed me north on
Ventu Park Road
to the freeway entrance …
both heading eastbound.
Up the ramp we went, I
looked back.
You waved and smiled;
Fran smiled too.
I waved, lingered a
moment on your smile.
Glanced to the left to
see what was coming.
The rooster tails flew
from the cars scooting by.
The freeway was wet;
dangerous … cars going too fast.
There was an opening,
merged in and got up to speed.
Looked back, but you were
gone; lost in the mist.
December 7, 2009, a day I
will never forget.
It was the last time I
saw Fran; your mother.
The news was not good
that day.
Fran checked into the
hospital the following day.
She died on December 16,
2009.
It was also the last day
that I would ever see you again.
Sure, we would talk in
the months ahead.
We would exchange emails;
facebook “friends.”
But December 7, 2009 was last
time I saw you.
It is … a day I will
never forget.
Three years have past …
the storm came.
You could not survive it.
Have a tune for you today
… a sad one, sorry, but … there you have it.
I walk a lonely road
The only one that I have ever known
Don't know where it goes
But it's home to me and I walk alone
I walk this empty street
On the Boulevard of Broken Dreams
When the city sleeps
And I'm the only one and I walk alone
I walk alone
I walk alone
I walk alone
I walk a...
My shadow's the only one that walks beside me
My shallow heart's the only thing that's beating
Sometimes I wish someone up there will find me
'til then I walk alone
Ah-ah, ah-ah, ah-ah, aaah-ah,
Ah-ah, ah-ah, ah-ah
I'm walking down the line
That divides me somewhere in my mind
On the border line
Of the edge and where I walk alone
Read between the lines
What's fucked up when everything's alright
Check my vital signs
To know I'm still alive and I walk alone
I walk alone
I walk alone
I walk alone
I walk a...
My shadow's the only one that walks beside me
My shallow heart's the only thing that's beating
Sometimes I wish someone up there will find me
'til then I walk alone
Ah-ah, ah-ah, ah-ah, aaah-ah
Ah-ah, ah-ah
I walk alone
I walk a...
I walk this empty street
On the Boulevard of Broken Dreams
When the city sleeps
And I'm the only one and I walk a...
My shadow's the only one that walks beside me
My shallow heart's the only thing that's beating
Sometimes I wish someone up there will find me
'til then I walk alone...
