Hawaiianmark Surf Page
He kehau ho'oma'ema'e ke aloha. Rascal; Like dat!
14.8.14
14.5.14
Aloha. How you been?
Ive been sure remiss in adding to the surf page. Its been relative hell for a while. My daughter Mai is 22 and fine has a BF and is working. Son 2 (Bear) Koni; is fine as well but lost job recently. Queen is OK too. Her cousin died of pancreatic cancer and was a close family friend to us all.
My eldest son is gone from his family; my grandkids (Kaleo 8; Kekoa6: and Kiana 13 (hanai adopted from mom previous marriage) are all well and being kids.
My son on the other hand is a drug addicted foolish man, who under the false hopes of bipolar falsehoods thinks that being on the streets is life enough. My daily penance is dying a little each day knowing that one day the EMS call for and OD will be him.
And that kills me.
When they day goes by and a call is for a deceased body retrieval; the horror that we deal with is nothing but panic, salt and open wounds.
He does not know what this is like.
We have gone thru numerous avenues of rehab; love; tough love; hate; remorse and guilt only to have all avenues be dead ends. The man is fucked up.
My parents 81 and 83 are on the edge of life and I should be there for them; but my home life is so fractured and a miss that I cant go one day without the intoxicant of booze. Thank god I work or Id be fucked.
The joys of surfing are few and far between; reality of chasing $$ and the hopes of calm don't relent.
Yes I surf; but the sessions are fraught with worry. Worry that I may submit to the relentless water; that I may entice failure and give up. That the calm of peace and never ending silence may be enough.
Its not pleasant.
But We strive on; we look at the bright eyes and see in them a hope that I cant grasp; a hope that is theirs. I can only hold on; prepare for the next reality; the next turn of the dice. Its a wait and see wait and pray wait and FUCK I AM TRYING attitude that hopefully can sustain me.
Good Alohas to you all; I hope all is well with all of you - Kenny; Zilla; Angie (youre xmas cards are such the bomb) Le Artiste; and all who travel by here.
All my Aloha.
Mark
4.3.14
Back from Vegas & Legoland
My family went to Vegas with grandkids for a day ten to Cali. Will post soon. Stupid Internet is messed right now from Alohaland.
19.2.14
22.2.13
Hard parts
Hard parts. Some of the hardest things are suppose to kill you. It has been said by people a hella lot smarter than I that if it doesnt kill you it only makes you stronger. I believed that for a long time; experiences have made that more (or less) a reality of sorts. Going to the brink of drowning in the surf I remember the distinct sensation of giving up; of panic; of fear; and that surviving, made me only stronger, but also more able.
**
I know that succesful rescues of people, performing care that results in survival, has made me a better public servant. Losses in this field (FD) is paramount to failure. That failure is expected, that failure is 'acceptable'. Knowledge and reseach and training; all that developes into a performance of top shelf quality ( I hope ) I have shyed away from the incessant posting of surf pics & stories, not because they are not occurring; but the fact that they have lost permanance to me at times. Joy abounds still with surf, grandkids. Tending to disasters of the normal around here, the fix-it/re-model honeydew list, still bring an amount of happiness.
**
The hardest thing I have ever faced was on 4/20 last year.
**
That was holding my dead grandson. Here I was; less than 30 minutes from just leaving the hospital with pretty up beat news on his 02 counts, his stability.
**
He had wrapped a tiniest of tiny fingers around my index finger.
I prayed like a Pope.
**
We got the call right as i had 5 minutes before relating the good news to The Queen. That hit like I do not know how to explain. In the rush back to the hospital from where I had just left; I drove; I prayed that this wasnt happening. It was raining.
**
Blind.
**
I cant recall seeing anything; I cant recall feeling anything. We got there, I have no recollection how fast or how dangerously I may or may not have driven. No elevator would have carried us fast enough, tho' it probably did. I dont remember.
**
Blind.
**
Hallways were void of other persons; even if it was not, it was. You go and have to be allowed in; you have to be granted access to death. You have to be allowed to experience the greatest saddness ever, I guess. Not unfair, I understand the worry that happens at a hospital directed to women & children. That fact alone is a pisser. The grief being exposed by those gathered was real, but the people there, the people there, I did not know. I may have known their names, their occupations and roles, but I really didnt, and didnt care.
Then they had me hold him.
**
He was cold; beautifully tiny, perfect in his smallness. His eyes closed for all eternity, I held him wrapped from the air conditionings cold. Here I am, surrounded by people and things and apparatus I dont recognize nor know, holding the smallest, saddest, most unfair thing in my lifes days, and I dont know anything or anyone. I truly was blind to all of it. I hated every second that moved so slowly that it very truthfully stood still. Words and things are said; I hear and answer not knowing what the fuck I said. I am breathing, I am not. I am for all accounts payable; broken. I can hardly stand. I must. I cant falter. I want to. Cry? Sure; it is expected and required. Crying isnt what torments you its that blind emptiness that fills me every second of everyday since then. It likes to retreat, hide in the mind shadows for awhile. Then when you are so sure you have overcome it; Bang. A song, a smell a word.
**
And I am broken all over again.
**
Im tired of crying for no reason, tired of fighting that sad feeling that comes up without warning.
**
I am tired of being blind.
**
Aloha.
4.2.13
1.2.13
13.11.12
Failure
I guess I'll close my eyes; since for the life of me I cant stand the thinking. So I've refused to think for quite sometime now. Pretty much have worked myself down to the bone and its an open fracture; just a seething woumd of hurt and no-pass craps rolls.
Ever since the littlest guy passed; the little majiro; life has been nothing but a constant everyday challenge that I can not; or perchance will not overcome. I hardly even want to speak to Her Highness at all. Its not so much a dislike nor a hate or disgust. It's just I cant talk to her. I cant express anything much less the deep despair a feel every mother fucking day.
My grandkids are a bundle of spirit, joy and events. Some of which are less than compatible with my brain function right now. Pretty much all the time. Nothing like being sent to the bench as the father figure and have to answer all the questions, pay all the bills and struggle with all the stupidity that a family can face.
Yeah Im crying in my beer and I really have the fuck-it syndrome. Im tried out. Ive held family meetings to try to get the hoard to understand I cant do it all; i cant. Its killing me and the stress is manifesting itself in serious alcohol comsumption and major tension headaches ( hey 2 weeks straight but fuck it a stroke would cure that)... I tried ass-hole. I tried begging. None are gonna get it until the end comes and we are all out on the street. Stealing from Peter to pay Paul and juggling as fast as my hands can spin my heartless ass around is digging holes to China.
Its fear; Its failure.
Ever since the littlest guy passed; the little majiro; life has been nothing but a constant everyday challenge that I can not; or perchance will not overcome. I hardly even want to speak to Her Highness at all. Its not so much a dislike nor a hate or disgust. It's just I cant talk to her. I cant express anything much less the deep despair a feel every mother fucking day.
My grandkids are a bundle of spirit, joy and events. Some of which are less than compatible with my brain function right now. Pretty much all the time. Nothing like being sent to the bench as the father figure and have to answer all the questions, pay all the bills and struggle with all the stupidity that a family can face.
Yeah Im crying in my beer and I really have the fuck-it syndrome. Im tried out. Ive held family meetings to try to get the hoard to understand I cant do it all; i cant. Its killing me and the stress is manifesting itself in serious alcohol comsumption and major tension headaches ( hey 2 weeks straight but fuck it a stroke would cure that)... I tried ass-hole. I tried begging. None are gonna get it until the end comes and we are all out on the street. Stealing from Peter to pay Paul and juggling as fast as my hands can spin my heartless ass around is digging holes to China.
Its fear; Its failure.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)