Day 12? 13? 14? I don’t know.

I miss my Mom.  It has become clear what a bunch of heartless bastards my “friends” and “family” are. I understand why God allows this: so I will be able to relate to people with the same pain, but still, I just want to curl up in a little ball and cry, which I do an awful lot of.

How could I possibly believe that losing Duffy and Cappy would be harder than losing my Mom? How could I have known that my Brothers would turn into heartless bastards?

Sascha, where you? All I want is a hug: a big bear hug from a big guy so I can cry in your arms… It says in the Bible that God will give us the desires of our hearts. Last time I got that, he got sick and turned on me.  I can’t go through that again, not without Mom.  I’d rather be alone for the rest of my life than go through that pain without Mom.

My heart hurts.

Sascha, where are you?

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Day Seven

Haven’t written for awhile, thought about you a lot, but otherwise done nothing else. Maybe your name isn’t Sascha.  Maybe it’s Sandy or Alex or, most formally, Alexander.  I wonder if you’re searching for me.

The most important thing is to get out in the real world: meet people again, go to the gym, church (sigh), get on with my life. This town calls itself a mecca of Christianity.  It’s not. It has a lot of organizations that are Christian in name, but I’ve never met such a pompous group of hypocrites.  Only in this place would there be a uproar about a billboard put up by a group of atheists.  The local news had a story about it.  It could have spent the time on the need for feeding and clothing the poor, but, no, it had to be about a stupid billboard.

Anyway, I’m thinking about you, praying that your life is going well, that you are prospering, happy.

 

Searching for Sascha Day One

Irish. Black Hair. Blue eyes. Straight. 50’s.  Rock climber? Swimmer? Triathlete?  I don’t know.

This man haunts my thoughts.  I had a dream, a few weeks before my Mom died.  I was sure this man was Christ and I tried and tried to find him: dark brown hair, beard, red plaid shirt.  Right before I woke up, I got a hug and it was the happiest I’ve every been, even after I woke up, for days.

I’ve had one dream about him, but he was in his twenties.  At the time I was obsessed with the movie ‘Harold and Maude.’  So, that’s where the straight hair came from, but the blue eyes?  Daddy? No.  Daddy’s eyes, I saw right before he died, are identical to mine.I thought they were blue, blue, blue like Mama’s.

Was that Sascha?  I don’t know.  I just know I’m obsessed. I’ve tried doing Google searches, but it’s kind of fruitless because how do you look for that man?  I briefly tried on a dating site.  It was fruitless and I decided I wouldn’t do THAT again.

So, I started thinking about getting out into the real world again. And I began to think about a plan to get in shape and clean up the house and get back on a daytime schedule. But I knew that if I just started, I’d quit. I didn’t really set a date.  I talked, well wrote, with Marci (Nemtzow) and Paul (Moriarty).  I talked about diet and exercise.

I thought about strength training and Spartan races and somehow got obsessed with the actor Gerard Butler in ‘Phantom of the Opera’.  And so I started thinking about Scottish men as he described them.  Large: big hands, wide shoulders, deep voices. And then I became obsessed with the man, but tried really really hard not to get a crush on him because that is just fruitless.

So, I decided to write about him.  And this is day one. I figure, can’t hurt.  Maybe he’ll find me?  Maybe he’s been thinking about a girl named Tania or Tati, or Tatiana…