He Didn’t Say Goodbye

I am not sure when Till Tomorrow became one of my favorite songs but I can’t tell you when lots of things happen.

Sometimes you don’t notice what you have until you don’t or until something else highlights a particular change.

If you want you can blame the new glasses for making me see and or look at some things differently or you can say it is tied into other things like turning 50 or my father’s death.

That last golden nugget has pushed me to explore a variety of things and to take a harder look at my own health because  if you have that, well you really do have almost everything.

So following the last visit with my ophthalmologist I logged onto the portal where he logs patient notes and read the report to see if there was anything I needed to follow up on.

I saw a comment about corneas that I didn’t like but didn’t panic because when you don’t know what something means it is not indicative of a need to panic.

Typed up an email in which I asked about that and a few other things and then progressively got more irritated because he didn’t respond.

Gave him the weekend and a day and called the office to find out whether the portal was broken and discovered he went on vacation.

He didn’t say goodbye and no one told me he was going away and so we wait.


Going to be a bachelor again real soon. Going to live that bachelor life.

Found myself wrestling with teenagers and reminding them that my explosive temper isn’t as explosive as they might think.

Reminded them that I am walking a path I have no experience with and am prone to making the same mistakes everyone makes.

Said that my willingness to run into burning buildings isn’t because I like it, want to or particularly enjoy it–it is because I have to.

Their grandparents taught me to do what is required.

I reminded them if they look up from electronic devices and listen there are ample hints that I am swinging on a fraying rope and that when it snaps I am not going to be able to smile as I fall down the side of the mountain.

But I made sure to mention when I was their age I was lost in my own world too and that I  probably heard the same complaint/lecture they received.

Some experiences are universal.


Life is a state of perpetual transition filled with continual exits and entrances into our lives.  We say hello and we say goodbye oftentimes without any forethought to what we are doing.

Turn on the scratch and hiss of a record and wait for the music to start playing or use it as white noise as done here.

I have always enjoyed the anticipation that comes with it, that sense you might be on the verge of hearing something magical.

The moment of mystery before the music play and the words flow freely is filled with possibility and opportunity.

If I could paint, I rather imagine those first few brush strokes would offer a similar feeling.

But I can’t make the brush display the images I see in my mind and though I have some ability to paint with words I sometimes wish I had these other skills.

To add music and pictures to the words and create the tapestry of sight and sound I wish to share would be extraordinary.

Sometimes I wonder what I could do if I had the financial wherewithal to focus solely upon storytelling and its accessories.

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