Paul Allen “Bub” Thompson (1985-2013)

I no longer knew you, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t remember you.

You were born just months after my brother and your sister after me. As children, we’d mimic the adults’ card games on the floor or run circles around the house with squirt guns. I think you were even there the afternoon Joey hopped the fence.

Then, one day, you were gone. I was too young to understand at the time, but later I knew why. I understood you’d left for a better life.

Years later I learned of your sister’s passing. I don’t recall if I mourned, but I remember thinking she was too young. It was tragic and now your story strikes me as the same.

I never knew who you’d become, just that you’d returned. Your accomplishments make me proud, but also strengthen the tragedy. You were so much more than what your parents had been. You were strong and I am proud.

Now, you’re gone and I’ll never have the chance to cross your path. I may never have learned of your success otherwise and that’s a disappointment.

With you, you’ve taken a piece of our family – a family that’s broken and dwindling. We may not have much, but blood is blood and it makes us who we are.

I may not have known you, but I’ll remember you. I hope you’ve found peace.

Writers block?

I write for work, just what I’ve always wanted to do. ┬áNow, I have nothing left. There aren’t any word left for me. Attempts at anything worth saying have left the page white. The thoughts, the emotions – they’re there. I’m just unable to transfer them from pen to paper. I want to write, I have things to say. There here, but they’re just stuck.

Back to Life, Back to Reality

Ahh, I made it. Some time off was needed, but I will thrive!

It’s good to be home. A vacation from my mind set it back at ease. From here on out, I will be moving forward. There’s nothing to stand still for. Time doesn’t wait, it keeps ticking on. The last 6 months have passed in a blur of discomfort and confusion. Now I’m settling into what is needed.

The sunshine of this afternoon has brought be back to life. My hopes are soaring. As I continue on in life, I expect you to come with me.

Clusters of words fog my thoughts and I can’t spit anything out fast enough. My fingers won’t move at a pace that can keep up. The distractions are endless. Like a puppy on his first visit to the beach, my attention jumps from one vision to the next.

Stay with me. Coming back to reality can be entrancing.