Skip to main content

Means to Me

I wrote this at work and I had to just end it because it kept making me want to cry. I don't know where it came from, but it just came out. I was thinking about how much I love my son and how much I feel like I'm some terrible sort of father and don't get to spend enough time with him and I turned that minor depression into absolute grief and this came out.

I lost my son today.

I lost him to recklessness and stupidity and no amount of tears and grief will bring him back.

No amount of revenge will make me feel better.

All I can do is remember what made him special. All I can do is remember how much I loved him and how much we tried to brighten each others days.

He was five years old and I never spent enough time with him. Do you ever think you spend enough time with your children? I don’t know. I never felt like I did. I’ve been working full time since he was born, so I’ve naturally spent more time at work than with him since he’s been born. Quantifying that idea in my head makes me want to cry.

Did he feel loved enough? I don’t know. I don’t know if a child can ever feel or be loved enough. I think of the smile on his face and want to hug him, bring him close to me, cheek to cheek. I yearn to feel the softness of his embrace one more time. I want to give him a kiss and tell him I love him.

I could never imagine how bad this would hurt. How could I? No one anticipates to feel the loss of one so young. No one can predict a tragedy so horrible, and that’s why I wish that I would have taken more time to be with him. To fill his days with as much love and attention as I should have.

God.

He had an amazing sense of humor for a child. When he was two and half or so... The mid-point in his life... Jesus... When he was two and a half and potty training there was a Saturday morning I remember. I had slept in. When I got up, I went to the bathroom, like most people do, to find the toilet full. There was no toilet paper to be seen either, so he hadn’t wiped himself. I flushed the toilet and went to the other room where I told my wife, “Guess who didn’t wipe himself or flush the toilet?”

Before she could reply, my son popped up from behind the couch and shrugged, saying as adorably as possible, “I didn’t wash my hands either!”

I miss him.

I’ll always miss him. How could I not? He spent five years changing and shaping my life. I tried my hardest to shape his, but I’ll never know what kind of a man he’d grow up to be. It makes me want to cry thinking of all the things he’ll miss out on. A first kiss, driving a car, having kids as adorable as he was.

As hard as it is on me, it’s even harder on his little sister.

She’s four and spent more time with him than anyone and she keeps asking where her brother is.

I don’t know how to tell her.

When he started pre-school and she was still too young to go, she would cry and cry and cry when they were separated. And afterwards, he would always ask why she couldn’t come with him.

When he would come home, she would run to him and hug him, shouting his name.

She’s only four, but I wonder if she’ll ever be completely whole again.

There’s so much more I want to say, but I can’t. I want him back and I can’t have him.

The hurt is too much.

I just wish I could tell him I love him one last time and explain to him how much he means to me... Meant to me...

1 comment

Popular posts from this blog

Anatomy of an Opening: The End of the Affair

Instead of breaking down a scene from a movie, this time we'll break down the opening of a book. (Previously, I've done scenes from City Lights, Citizen Kane, Raiders of the Lost Ark, and Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid.  I've also broken down the opening to Starship Troopers.

Graham Greene's The End of the Affair is absolutely one of my favorite books. The writing is lyrical and story heart-wrenching and beautiful. Greene's style of writing is such that he always has me gripped, whether it's the beginning of the book or the end. And he shows you so much about the character in his opening lines.

So, here are the first two paragraphs from the book:
A story has no beginning or end: arbitrarily one chooses that moment of experience from which to look back or from which, to look ahead. I say 'one chooses' with the inaccurate pride of a professional writer who - when he has been seriously noted at all - has been praised for his technical ability, but d…

50+ Rules and Tips About Writing I've Collected Over the Years

I have twenty or thirty notebooks and journals filled up with snippets about writing, my plans for stories, bits of dialogue, interesting ideas, plotlines, scraps of short stories, and a dozen other things. I carry one with me at all times and it takes me a couple of months to fill one up.

One of the things I've kept in one of my notebooks was a collection of writing tips and rules that I've collected over the years in my travels. From teachers, from books, from wherever. Most of my career has been spent screenwriting, so a lot of these are most applicable to that, but I wanted to present them so they might be of use to you as well.

I've never stopped collecting these over the years and I never will.

To start the list are Kurt Vonnegut's eight rules of writing. They are the first in my notebook and, I think, the most useful. I'll add a star to those I think are applicable most to screenwriting. Some of these aren't applicable to everyone in every situation, but…

Anatomy of a Scene - City Lights

We're going to break down another scene this week, and it's one of my favorites in cinema history. It comes from the ending of City Lights by Charlie Chaplin, which I think is the greatest romantic comedy ever made. 
It's a touching film from 1931 and I would make it mandatory viewing for anyone who wants to learn to tell a story.
The scene we're going to be breaking down comes from the very end of the film, so if you haven't seen it, I don't want to spoil it for you. Go watch the film. You can rent it for $3.99 in HD on Amazon or for free on Hulu with a free trial or plus subscription. You should just buy the Blu-ray, though. You're going to want to revisit it.
For those of you familiar with the movie, or for those of you who are going to ignore my pleas to watch it and go ahead with this post anyway, I'm going to set this clip up a bit before you watch it.
City Lights tells the story of Chaplin's Tramp and how he falls in love with a blind flower …