Before I die

Before I die
A lifetime before I die
I’d like to learn to fly
To a place beyond the tears
Away from all the fears
A year before I die
I’d like to learn to cry
From tears of happiness
No part played by sadness
A month before I die
I’d like to look at the sky
And regret days when it wasn’t blue
But more of a dark greyish hue
A day before I die
I’d like to take a sigh
One of relief and gladness
For I will depart this world of madness
A moment before I die
I’d like to take your hand and smile
As my imagination runs its final mile
Just before I die…
–
L.C.
This is a story of a woman who bore a child at the tender age of 16. Her beauty was that of an angel but the darkness had truly touched her soul. Every man she met would lust over her but none could ever truly love her. Her vanity and pride stood in the way of her finding true love and happiness.
The summer evening after her son had been born; she gently folded him in a blanket and cold-heartedly abandoned him on the side of the road. Never looking back twice to see what she was leaving behind, the woman continued with her impure life as if nothing had ever happened.
Ten years later, a dirty, tattered young man wreaking of dustbin odours knocked on her luxurious Victorian door. There was no mistaking the blue eyes that say on that face and the black her that was appeared to have been generously sprinkled onto his greasy scalp was a splitting image of his father’s.
With determination to repair their relationship, she allowed him to stay with her. All until she felt it was interfering with her ever-so-active love life. That is when her selfish ways pushed their way to the surface. She tossed him out once again, and this time for the last time.
As the guilt pecked at her over the years, her beauty began to fade and the darkness of her actions clouded her world. One night, the guilt she could no longer bear so she set off to find him only to return seven months later with no luck.
At her death bed, 41 years later, stood a middle aged man. Her son had returned to forgive his mother of her not so motherly actions and bid her farewell. She never found true love but she died knowing she had brought a soul much purer than her own into this world.
“Look at me Jonathan. I’m just a mere reflection of what a human shouldn’t be. All the mistakes I’ve made were only to fix what I thought was broken. You don’t understand. I would’ve been a terrible mother. If I had stayed, you would’ve hated me more than your little mind could ever imagine. I love you my dear boy but not more than I love myself. See, this is the one thing I truly admire about myself. I can be honest, honest about who I am. Pack your bags. You must go. I can no longer pretend I am prepared to be a mother to a child I barely even recognise. I’m still young. Men still adore me. What man would have me if word were to escape that I had a bastard child? Oh no! That I cannot bear…leave at once!”
“Frederick, I just chased my only son off into the woods. The only man who could probably ever love me the way I am…apart from you of course. He’s just a boy searching for the mother he never had. I lied. I do love him. He just deserves better. I’m not a suitable mother. I refuse to wreck what little childhood he has left. My brother, why are you looking at me like that? Have I made a mistake? He really is my son. I don’t believe it. I have to find him at once! Frederick, gather my things. Let me die with at least one honourable act in my name.”
“Jonathan! I found you. I finally found my son. I searched for you but you were gone. You just vanished into thin air. I never meant to hurt you. When I said I loved you but not enough, I lied. I love you twice as much as myself…even more when I deduct the parts of myself I really hate. I had to die knowing that one thing I touched didn’t turn into dust. Look at you my angel. You turned out better than you would have if I had stayed. I love you my darling. Dying in your arms was my wish to God and now it has c…”

My story… so far…

I sometimes question what makes a good story, and often wonder where that story would begin. We all usually know when we are exposed to a good story, but I believe that a great story is what we all desire. A great story usually involves many dynamics that can cause us to experience deep emotions, and often even question our own thoughts, beliefs, and motives as we reevaluate our own lives. My question remains the same about either type of story… at what point, where does it really begin? I decided to start my story, whether great or not, a few years before I decided to make a change in my life that has allowed me to be fortunate enough to help other people in ways that I didn’t realize I was capable of. I also believe that it’s not always the destination that is as important as the journey…
In most ways, my story began when I opened the only eye not sealed shut with blood as I became conscious lying in the ICU ward of a military hospital and realized the extent of my pain and injuries. I was serving in the U.S. Army and was involved in a life threatening accident that hospitalized me for several months. That accident eventually led me to receive multiple service connected disabilities with a few more pending. Upon my discharge from active service, I always tried to do the best I could in all aspects of life, and sometimes I fell short… sometimes very short.
Sometimes my best efforts produced results that I was very proud of as well. At one point, I owned a mortgage company with a few other partners, and was married to a wonderful woman. When the housing market crashed and my divorce became final, I found myself more lost and confused than I had felt in years. I started making bad choices for myself and eventually found myself in very dangerous situations.
This is when I decided to change my life and work on self-improvement and try to find a way to truly experience my full potential. I entered a VA hospital to concentrate on receiving the care and treatment I needed in order to live my life in the best possible way for myself. I stayed in that VA hospital as an inpatient for well over a year focusing on my injuries and my subsequent problems that I’ve experienced in life because of them.
When I lived in the hospital, I started to visit the gym that was located in one of the wings of the facility. Although limited in the amount of equipment that was available, I still used it as often as I could. I began doing research about various training techniques and tried to learn as much as I could about diet and exercise. Because of the limited amount of equipment available, I had no choice but to become very creative with exercises. I also started to notice that all the effort I was putting into the gym was starting to pay off, and some of the other patients were starting to notice as well.
Often I would be questioned by different patients during my stay in that hospital, all asking about what they can do to either help alleviate the pain with some injuries or simply to build up certain parts of their body. I would show them some of the things I learned, and they were grateful. I enjoyed being able to help other veterans that were in the hospital trying to get well.
I continued to read and research as much as I could and eventually took some tests and received several fitness certifications.
I have some difficulties learning, but all that means to me is that I must focus and spend more time and effort than most people on things that I’m trying to understand.
The hospital would give out free passes to a fitness center that was within walking distance and I started working out there. The club had more equipment than I was used to using, and from the experience I had in the hospital along with all the research and education I spent my time focusing on, I was able to really start training on an optimum level.
I was approached one day by a woman that had noticed me working out and she said she had been watching me and was interested to know if I would be her personal trainer, which I thought about for a moment and after talking to her about what she wanted to get out of her workouts, I decided I would help her.
I talked to one of my friends in the hospital and told him I wanted to start my own fitness training company and with his help I started my own personal training business and became a small business owner.
He told me I would even have a new customer… his wife. She was a member of the new fitness center in the community that was located on the other side of town. I had no money to join the fitness club and no transportation to get there, but with their help they put me in contact with the manager of the gym that allowed me to train his wife and not charge me a gym fee. My friend and his wife also donated a mountain bike to my new company and without their help this entire venture would most likely not have happened.
I got to know the manager and owner of the new gym, and when they began advertising their grand opening, they asked if I would want to be available and help answer questions and demonstrate exercises to any new members that wanted to join that day. Their advertisement included me and my company, and I was offered a one month free membership if I would participate. It was hard to pass up a free month membership (which I couldn’t afford in the first place), free advertising, the chance to get some business and do all of this for simply being available at their grand opening.
The local chamber of commerce of the town I live in, which has approximately 5000 residents, found out about my personal training business and decided to write a small article about me and I was even awarded a certificate with my first dollar of clear profit. The article was printed in the local paper with a picture of me and members from the chamber of commerce presenting me with my certificate.
I moved out of the hospital and started to pick up more and more clients. As my name became more known, I became more and more associated with something beneficial and good in the community.
I happen to be the only personal trainer in town, and since I’ve been training people in the gym I have worked with people that have special needs, and I have also worked with people that experience physical and / or mental disabilities, the elderly, amputees, people recovering from eating disorders and addictions as well as those who have suffered injuries. I tell all people what it is that I have had to learn for myself… regardless of your situation, never let a problem become an excuse.
When I saw an opportunity to compete in a fitness challenge and earn a chance to represent a supplement company that made great products to help enhance the efforts people put into the gym I knew I had found an opportunity to involve myself in something great, that would take my training to a higher level and give me a definite goal, and a specific target to shoot for.
Now, every time I enter the gym I’m asked how my training is going. Many people in the community are cheering me on. I didn’t own a vehicle for the first 9 months of this venture, so I had to ride my bike to the gym which is about 5 miles from my apartment, and some days depending on my training schedule and how many clients I am working with each day I would ride my bike several times to the gym.
I have been training people for almost a year now starting with the patients in that VA Hospital. I rode my bike all winter, sometimes in the freezing cold or icy snow. I have ridden my bike to the gym in the spring and appreciated the changing seasons more than I have ever appreciated them in my life, mainly because I was exposed to the cold for so long that I could feel the depth of my enjoyment for the nicer weather. I ride my bike in the summer and sometimes when the temperatures climb above 100 I just smile to myself and realize how fortunate I am to be alive and experience the heat and all the blessings life has recently offered me.
I do these things not only for myself, but for other people because I believe that if they chose to better themselves, and asked me to help them to be a part of that process, then I must not let the problems of life interfere with my ability to help them, as well as continue to train myself.
I have been saving my money as strictly as my budget has allowed me and just this month I was able to purchase a vehicle. I now plan on advertising in the local paper. I am going let people know that I can bring workout bands, dumbbells, balance balls and medicine balls for those individuals that either don’t have a gym membership or are simply unable to go. I believe that if someone needs help and they allow me to help them that I must be thankful that not only am I capable of helping, but also grateful that they allowed me to help them. I’m excited about this next evolution of my business because now if someone can’t get to the gym, I can bring it to them.
I have become well known in the community as the fitness trainer and rarely go into any store in town without someone asking me what types of exercises would help them with some type of pain they have. Often I have people I don’t even know approach me knowing my name and they tell me what exercises they are currently doing and how inspired they are to get as healthy as they can. I cannot go to the grocery store without someone asking me what would be healthy choices to eat, and I find it quite funny when I see a client I’m currently working with try to run and hide when they see me because they might have some type of cheesy poof or pizza puff in their shopping cart. When I run into someone that I once worked with and no longer train, it gives me such satisfaction when they tell me that they are continuing to do the things that I taught them and either their pain has subsided or they are able to play with their children once again.
Some of my clients are able to open doors for the first time in years because we were able to find ways in the gym to help alleviate their carpel tunnel pain. One of my clients was selling her motorcycle when we first started to train because of her hip and back problems, and 3 months later she took a 3 week, 5200 mile motorcycle trip with her husband because of the training we focused on and all the isometric exercises I showed her to do while on the road. One of my special needs clients is mentally and physically challenged. He started out at 408 lbs. and wasn’t able to work out for more than 8 minutes the first time we met. Every time I would demonstrate an exercise he would simply look at me and say, “I can’t”. I would encourage him to try but he would only exert a minimal amount of effort and again repeat his mantra, “I can’t”. It was our third session when I decided to write a small message on a piece of paper and I folded it and gave it to him at the beginning of our meeting. I looked at him and said, “I’m going to give you a surprise but you cannot look at it until I tell you. I want to tell you something, I promise to never do anything that will hurt you and I will never ask you to do anything that you can’t do, but you have to try to do the things I tell you to do.” He agreed and as we began our workout the familiar words again came out, “I can’t”. I then said, “Look at that note I gave you, and I want you to read that to me every time I tell you what exercises to do.” The note simply read, “I can”. We have been working out now for 3 months and he has lost over 25 lbs., and he has gained the confidence to become more independent in the community, and he is much more active and even works harder at his state sponsored job. When he enters the gym, and begins each workout his face lights up and through his smile you can hear him proudly say, “I can”. I even bought him a t-shirt with the words I CAN written on it and that is his workout shirt.
Each month, the fitness club we workout in recognizes a “Member of the Month”. In September, he was chosen as the member of the month and was even acknowledged in the newspaper. His workouts now last 45 minutes and everyday he looks at his care provider and excitedly asks if it’s a gym day or not. By the time we have completed his training, I’m confident to say that he will have lost well over a 100 lbs. To me, these are the great stories that make me think and feel on a level that I had previously never known. They are the stories that give me answers to those questions that I often ask myself about my own life, and what I have chosen to do with it. I believe that we should all celebrate our own individuality as we simultaneously embrace our community and those that we interact with daily.
I am sharing a part of my story, and by the time this fitness challenge has ended I hope it’s a story that has the potential to be great to someone, even if that someone is only me. As a disabled American veteran with a brain injury among other physical and mental disabilities, I believe that if I can start my own training business from nothing, while living in a hospital, as I approach my 40th birthday and help other people experience a better quality of life, then anyone can find a way to create a healthier life for themselves anytime they chose. I have done all of these things by riding a bicycle everywhere I needed to be, and give of myself to as many people as I can with no motive or thought of reward other than knowing that they will feel better and live healthier as they experience their journey through life. I know that it is their stories that are great to me, for their triumphs help motivate me to continue along my own path that I have created for myself.

by Wade

The Lunatic Incident

We were just ambling in a perfectly peaceable manner down the road. Max had that day acquired gainful employment, and quite naturally felt like celebrating. Unfortunately however, it was a Thursday, and most of our friends being one step ahead of Max – not to mention an inestimable number ahead of myself – were not at liberty to piss away the early hours of the morning on futile urban adventurism.

Socially destitute, we cut a path in the general direction of the local casino; the plan being to drink and gamble away Max’s future earnings, safe in the knowledge that 15 hours a week of primary school teaching assistant salary would soon be at our disposal. Given that no contract had been signed, this arrangement could last a few weeks. On the other hand, it could last forever. As such we felt it not unreasonable to advance ourselves an indefinite supply of easy credit.

It was in this spirit of bonhomie that we ambled quite unprovocatively towards the bus stop. I suppose the beer and excitement gave me tunnel vision, because – despite the long, straight emptiness of the road – the first thing I knew of our new acquaintance’s existence was when he lunged, semi-violently, into our personal sphere, and barked “WHERE’S THE PARTY AT!??!”

Somewhat startled by this unannounced debutant, Max’s reaction was to dispense a quick “dunno mate”, and continue his unbroken course. Whilst not exactly considering this poor form on Max’s part, my response nevertheless diverged. Although no such monologue ran through my mind at the time, were I to formalise the reasoning behind my response, it would have run something like this.

“Here is a gentleman, who – though clearly lacking in the social skills most of us take forgranted – has demonstrated no malice of intent, or fundamental disagreeableness in disposition. All that can be fairly ascertained from his words is that he wishes to know where the party is at, and from his boldly open body language, most likely desires further interaction with us. I believe to a very substantial degree in the fraternity of man, so why deny it to him?”

Accordingly, I turned towards him, opening up my body in a move anticipated to display respect and amicability. My utterances continued this theme. “Hmm, not sure I’ve heard one around here to be honest mate.” Although he was disappointed by this, our discussion continued on friendly-enough terms. He went on to bemoan the fact that – assuming my implication that there was no nearby party was correct – the guys down the road “MUST’A BEEN TAKIN’ THE PISS!!”

I extended my condolences, and sympathised that they must’ve been real wankers to send him off on such a wild-goose chase. However, pity as it was, we had an itinerary to keep to, and as such I tried to break-off relations, while maintaining cordiality. Perhaps this was my mistake, in that I suppose he picked up on my distaste (however incidental) for continued conversation, combined with my continued presence, and deduced that I was hanging around only out of schadenfreude.

In our subsequent review of the incident, Max described the situation as one that, at this point, had developed a steadily increasing undertone of tension. “It seemed like it could, potentially, have developed into an antagonistic situation.” Certainly it was bearing little tangible fruit. Where before we had been exchanging collaborative proposition and counter-proposition, our discussion had reached an impasse in the form of:

“So what you doing?”

“Going that way mate.”

“So what you doing!?”

“Going that way mate.”

“SO WHAT YOU DOING!??!”

“Going that way, mate.”

(I have said nothing of the man’s appearance up till now, and perhaps – despite my supposed liberalism – it was a factor I should have taken into account sooner. Scatty would have been a kind way of putting it. Bizarre, and rather frightening would have been another. And this was with his hood tightly done up. It was at this point that things (next-door to literally) exploded from the ‘Could potentially get antagonistic’ stage, to the ‘Here you are right now with a fucking lunatic leering in your face demanding that you get your hands off him even though they aren’t even on him’ stage.

The guy had, at astonishing speed, used both hands to tear back his hood to reveal his face, (the features of which were remarkable) and fling it towards mine, stopping perhaps 6 inches short; the rest of his body in close support. As aforementioned, I found the guy borderline frightening even when I couldn’t see him. Now I could, this emotion was fleshed out in full. If his behaviour had been on the eccentric side, his face was that of a fully-fledged lunatic. He had discoloured, emaciated skin. His eyes were wild and bulging. But the aspect that scared me the most was the interior of his mouth. I recall throughout our stand-off fearing desperately that he would bite my neck with his assorted metal teeth. And seriously, the only word which I could use to describe his general outlook, would be rabid.

Despite Socrates’ insistence that courage is only fear of a greater evil (It’s in the dialogue where he drinks the hemlock), I’m pretty proud of my unyielding response. Though I do not pretend to any martial prowess, I nevertheless have always thought valour in the face of those who would do evil upon you is something to be admired.

Perhaps it was the knowledge that I had an ally to my back, but I don’t believe (I’ll have to check with Max) I flatter myself when I say I did not flinch, nor give way an inch. I don’t remember what he was saying at this point; no doubt nothing more meaningful than me (“What the fuck d’you want?” “What the fuck do you want?”) We were eyeball to eyeball no more than a minute, and perhaps much less. It could have been shortened further had I heeded Max’s advice of “Come on Pete, we’ve got to go.” However at this stage it seemed that showing weakness to someone who was demonstrating such violent potential – particularly someone as obviously unbalanced as this man – would be folly in the extreme.

It’s quite possible that it was a case of consequence without causation; however it is equally possible  that it was this policy of non-deference that resulted in the guy eventually snapping suddenly back to his former amicable self. The speed of change in his temperament was again quite astonishing. One moment he looked ready to tear my larynx out with his bare teeth. The next he was all good-nature and well-wishing. Within a minute of this reverse, with a shake of the hand, and mutual expressions of good-will, off he set one way, we the other.

Whilst we were at the bus-stop – despite having been in several incomparably more savage situations – I was close to tears. At first I thought maybe it had been a while since something like that had befallen me, I was getting old, and the nervous strain had taken its toll. What I now believe to be the probable truth however, I find far more distasteful. Just before we’d set off we’d been at a friend’s watching Newsnight, and there had been a report about the English Defence League. Again, despite my liberal attitudes, or perhaps because of them, I had defended them against the assertion by Max that they were really just a bunch of racist thugs. My argument was, basically, ‘innocent until proven guilty.’ I suppose my conviction in this is largely founded on a desire to believe the best in people, regardless of instinctive reactions based on appearance and social graces.

Or put another way, exactly the same convictions that led me to treat this guy who – I maintain could (or even would) have visited real harm on me – like someone worthy of no less than respect and kindness. Then again, although (according to Max) I certainly did nothing that could have qualified as provocative throughout, I think that my prejudice against the guy – late night, hooded, ‘chavvy’ appearance, and under-developed speech patterns – (which if sublimated by whatever socio-philosphical-political trend I’ve bought into) was definitely present. I remember distinctly at one point at least, feeling amused by him. I suppose maybe I’m thinking incorrectly –and unjustly highly of myself, as well as lowly of him – that I largely successfully masked those feelings.

Fuck it, perhaps the only reason I wanted to talk to him in the first place wasn’t because I felt he was another decent human being, but just because I wanted to inflate my moral ego by sucking up to some pretentious ideal. I mean instinctively I do think the EDL are (largely) a bunch of racists thugs. I could say “ah well it’s how you act, not how you think that defines you”, but if I acted in an insincere way – which probably justly antagonised this guy in the first place, because I wasn’t talking to him as a frère, I was condescending to him which is so-very-much worse than just brushing him off a la Max – and was incapable of passing it off as genuine, which caused the guy to get pissed off, whether I was being a pretentious prick or not, that makes my actions those of antagonistic twat. I was supposedly being a brother to this guy, but actually I maybe I was just suffering from some compulsive moral masturbatory disorder.

The Train

The Train Life had never been easy for an old man like me. I never had a spoon full of gold and I never hold a silver bell in my hand. Sometimes, I felt that this life is unworthy but somehow my daughter strengthen me. Her sweet smile always wiped away my sadness. My wife? She went to meet the creator since my little daughter was born. I had a difficult time, trying to accept the truth that she was so far away. “Dada! I want that ice-cream!” Oh, there she was, standing right beside an ice-cream stall. I put my hands into my torn pockets. Feeling very disappointed that I got not even a penny, I called  my little angel. “Angel! Dada is sorry. Dada got no money.” ‘Dada’, a name that she used to call me. Deep inside my heart, I hope that she would understand my situation. Her tears would be a knife for me. “Em.., Dada. It’s okay”. Angel smiled, with her eyes fulled of tiny droplets of pure water. She was so sad, but I had to ignore both of our feelings. I held her little hand. She was a very clever girl and it was enough for me to take another step in my life. “Dada, where’s the train? The big-big train?” Angel’s eyes were clear again as she looked for her favourite vehicle, the train. I knew, I was not supposed to bring her with me to the railway station. But I had no choice as I had no one to look after her at home. She had no one but me. “The train will be coming soon, Angel. Dada had to do some work first. The automatic program of the railway is not functioning. Dada has to go to the main manual pulley. Stay here, Angel”. I let go of her hand. “Okay Dada. Papye!” Angel waved her hand. She gave me such a heaven smile. I nodded my head and walked faster as I knew I got work to be finished. “Dada!” Suddenly, she spoke again. I turned my head. “I love you, Dada!” Then she waved her hand again. My heart felt something different. It beat faster than ever. Despiting all of the bad whispers, I continued to walk. Everything was too noisy. The smoke of the trains cover my senses. This lung felt hard to breathe. “Hm, this can’t be right. Huh, I got to go to the office to see what’s wrong with the pulley.” I could not run so I walked slowly to the office. I knew that I got not much time as the train will be coming in five minutes. I just knew that I had to leave my daughter on the other side of the railway station. “Ah. No wonder. I guess it will be okay now.” The sound of the train seem to be nearer. I got to the pulley a minute before the train will get through the railway where I was incharged of. But wait, where was Angel? “Angel! Angel, where are you,dear?” Nothing but the whistle of the train reached my ears. “Angel! Where are you?” The train was about 30 seconds to come. Angel seemed to be nowhere seen. “Dada! The train! Yay!” I turned my head to the source of the voice. Angel.. There she was, on the railway of the coming train. “Angel! Get out of there!” I got my body shivering. God, save my daughter! “Dada, train!” Angel still playing on the railway. She waved her small hands to me as she smiled. I hated to make a choice, but this was the worst of all. Between my daughter nand a thousand of other people lives in the red train. 15 seconds to go. Choice had to be made. “Sorry Angel. Dada loves you.” I pulled the pulley. For 15 seconds, I felt like I was not a human. I did something that a human would never do. If a miracle was able to be bought by a rich man, I would never hesitate to try my best to buy it, even with my own life. I watched my only daughter eaten by the smoky train. She was no longer to be seen anywhere. None of her body part can be seen but blood. Skreech! The train stopped 30 seconds after it hit my little angel. I paused my breath. What happened? “Angel!!!” I rushed to the train. I bent down to look for Angel. “Angel!” No answer. Where are you Angel?” “Excuse me, sir. You are not allowed to be on the track. The train will continue its journey in 5 minutes.” A man suddenly spoke right behind me. “Who do you think you are? Idiot! My daughter was crushed! Do you hear me? My only daughter is under the train!” I tried to make him understand but his face was emotionless. “Still. In 5 minutes.” Then he entered the train. “Angel! Where are you, dear?” I tried to reached under the train. I caught something. It was my daughter’s body, with some missing parts. I tried my best to pull her out. “Angel! Why are you dead? Dada still did not buy you the ice-cream. Why do you walk away? Talk to me, Angel. Say my name!” I hold her cheeks. Her face seemed to be so calm. “1 minutes left!” There, the yell went on. “Nevermind, Angel. Dada is so sorry but Dada swear, Dada loves you so much. Dada didn’t intend to hurt you.” The people in the train were staring at me. I cuddled up my little angel’s body with a broken heart. I stepped backward from the track with the incomplete body of my angel. The people in the train still watched me crying alone. Why did they just stare and did not even drop a tear for my dead daughter? “You people are saved! But I lost my only daughter! I sacrificed her for you!” I cuddled my daughter firmly and looked at her sweet face. “Dear Angel. One day, Dada will find you. We’ll live together again. Go, Angel. Rest in peace with your mummy up there in heaven. Dada’s gonna miss you.” I brought her home and all the way back, I just kept thinking. Is she happy up there? But there were no regrets after all.