Hope, more than a word. The only thing I have left.

It’s been years and I can still hear your laughter as a child. I remember racing home after 16 hr days at work just to read you “If you give mouse a cookie.” To lay there and stare at the ceiling and hear about your day, your thoughts and dreams. I remember thinking, you are the kindest child I’ve ever met and then thinking how proud I was to have made you, to know you and be your Father. I remember family dinner ” that what the best part of your day?” I remember how much I miss you with every breath I take and how I wish I knew that you were okay, alive, or anything besides the void of nothing that stands between us now. I remember Ferry rides and walks on the beach. Easter egg hunts and birthday parties. I remember the only thing I ever wanted growing up was to have a family, a normal family with a normal life. I think we had that for a while. I’m sorry I didn’t know how to ask for the help I needed. I’m sorry I couldn’t be the man I was needed to be. Parkinson’s disease is ruthless, the medicines used to treat it are cruel and outdated yet here we are 11 years since that fateful morning your mother and I woke up only to find I could move and ever since then everything has changed. I hope wherever you are and whatever you’re doing that you know you are loved and cherished missed and needed.

Always benjamin, your Father, your friend and your biggest admirer.

Letters to my son: page 734

I wish I knew what to say. I wish knew where you were or what happened. I had cancer , you came to see me , I didn’t die, I tried so hard to live so that we could have a life together. I know it wasn’t the life we wanted to have or that we had as a family. I’m sorry for that change in our lives, but please understand that all the choices were not mine. Many of those choices were made for me or my reactions to things around me. I never meant for one second to lose you in all of this. Slowly as the chemo-brain fog and radiation treatments fade. In between the moments where Parkinson’s disease doesn’t have me running every which way. I see things clearly and yet I don’t understand why you are not here with me from time to time . Why did you have to disappear and where did you go. What happened between us that would take you so far away. I can’t imagine myself ever doing anything that would make you leave like this. I tried to give our family everything I didn’t have growing up and in many ways I did. We wanted for nothing. Little did I know the thing I didn’t give you was myself. Even though I gave you everything of myself , after 50,60,70 hrs of work a week providing for the family. There was barely waking time to be a family. Though my mind is filled only with joyful memories I can only assume that your are not. For if your childhood wasn’t the gift I thought it was I’m truly sorry. I did everything, gave everything I had and in the end when I got sick , it felt like everyone left . Left me to die , let me have this burden of Parkinson’s alone with no family to find shelter upon. No home to come home to. Then came the cancer and soon to follow a line of humans who would have rather taken everything from me rather than see me well. Tisha and Paula. Shame on you. So here I am yet again writing to you, writing to the world cruel as it is. Where are you? What happened to you? To us. I am here , I alive, not entirely lost to my diagnosis, painting and writing, growing green things and food to eat. Living a lift inspired by living well. I’m not rich anymore, I don’t have anything to call my own. No Physical reminder of my past. All that stolen from me in Arizona. Everything is worked for all my life of gone. Every gift, memory of my life ripped from me. Now I am truly and only a representative of myself. No fancy clothes or nice things, no house of my own nor future to offer. But I am and have always been a kind and gentle soul. Generous and kind to a fault. Naive to the true evils of man and womankind alike. I miss you my son and I miss my step daughter as well though it’s odd to say it that way as I never raised you as a step anything. So here I reach out knowing not what else to do. Here I leave a story written from me to you. In hopes before I’m gone , before PD takes my fully my ability to even recognize your face I hope with every heartbeat and every breath that I’ll have the chance to know you again. Wherever you are and whatever you’re doing, please know that you are loved and cherished, missed dearly with every fiber of my being. I love you boo and wish I knew what to say or what to do to make you come back to me. Sincerely your Dad, your father. Benjamin M Prewitt.

Things written.. page 72,345 give or take

How lucky are we to live through this life long enough to endure the pain of its beauty. Sadly though to feel every thought of everything is to much for human heart to bare. Such a nostalgic wasteland of crushed dreams and next things. A consumption of time and stuff that bogs the mind and lessons the blows of age and time and death and fear of actually loving our dreams to there fullest. How frial this human heart that can best forever if givens chance yet breaks on dime and stops at every chance to weak to furthermore this broken shell. Words…… Drip from a wounded life , a tired soul lost inside a lost souls nightmare . Heartache is what breaks the human soul. I know , I’ve seen it with my own eyes as it devours everything in it’s path until it’s gone… These words , this life of constant questions and qweery. A life spent pondering why. A life worked hard for others gone and all for what? After a lifetime pondering and wondering the world I still don’t know the answer to the question or questions to answers I’ve found. I did meet a smaller me in cancer death. We sat and we cried as the life that was died. I wonder why I had to die that day so long ago so very far away when we heard the doctors say…… It’s Parkinson’s disease….. Everything is a bit hazzy since then and cancer did as it pleased.. Does one ever recover from such loss of lives, love and loss.

**It’s been a while since I’ve purged words from my soul, so please pardon the feverish flow of getting go of things I may never know. This life is not what I thought it would be and still find moments where I look back in utter shock and awe of the choices I felt I was forced to make and that of those I saw others make in the wake of what was . Cancer and it’s treatment are mother fx#&$er . There I’m done.

Benjamin. 2020