OUT OF THE PARK

man in baseball hat painting 1

        Anything is possible.

Few things are probable.

When something transcends probability it is called a miracle.

I died.

I died while you were yet my little girl.  My sweet little “Sassafras”.  And yet I cannot go on past this moment.  I remain with you always.

Life goes on miraculously and with divine cruelty.  I can see you.  I cannot touch you anymore.  Yet I feel you tenderly the way I once felt my very breath.  You cannot see me anymore.  Yet you feel my nudge whenever you lose your way.

I chose you as my light when I died to the world.

I have become your Guardian Angel, my Sassafras, like the ones in those bedtime stories that I used to read to you.

I feel you thinking, “Where was your Guardian Angel, Daddy?”

Daddy’s Guardian Angel was watching the big game with Daddy and I guess Daddy couldn’t hear him yelling.

Aw, I’m just funning you, Sassafras.

Let’s just say that I pitched myself but Daddy’s Guardian Angel just couldn’t catch me.  Now when I think of myself I am still wearing that Fathers’ Day L.A. Angels‘ baseball cap and my glove.

I had reached way over the upper deck guardrail to catch Satanás’ foul ball for you.  I lost my balance and I fell thirty feet.  It’s a miracle that I didn’t kill someone else as well.  I remember that I walked along through a glare toward your crying.  I just had to tell you I was alright.  I wasn’t alright.  Suddenly I found you.  There you were at my funeral, crying.  And there was your mother who had come back from her new life away from us to be with you.

As have I.

I love you.  How could I have left you to the ruthless charm of this world? Please forgive me, Sassafras.

Hell is to believe in this world.

My darling sweet Sassafras, I can watch you being sculpted by time’s whirling hands.

I remain in the same stilled heart of the vortex.

And now, who is that boy you are with?

Yes, Sassafras, I am that tingle on the back of your neck.

I feel you thinking, “Oh, Daddy.  It’s just Kason from Homeroom.  He plays Junior League Baseball, you know.  His team calls him ‘Kissin’ Kason’.

Oh, don’t worry, Daddy.

Daddy, they call him Kissin’ Kason because when he hits a baseball you can kiss it good-bye.

Daddy, it so is just because he hits a baseball good.  Daddy, it so is just a funny name and I can’t help myself that things just pop up into my mind.

Daddy, Kason’s team says he really knows how to find the ‘sweet spot’.

Daddy!  On the bat!

Daddy, you told me about that yourself, remember?  You will like Kason.  He reminds me of you, Daddy.”

Sassafras, I don’t want you to end up like your mother.  In the end all I ever did was disappoint her.  Except with you.  I used to tease your mother and ask her who your real father was.  I know, I know.  It was just a joke, sweetie.  Your mother would make the silliest sly face and we both laughed until we cried.

I never really needed God except to watch over you and your mother.  I never wanted you to suffer from me being such a lucky fool.  When I was alive I thought God had a plan for me but it was my own self-reflection.

I hit myself out of the park.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

 

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4 thoughts on “OUT OF THE PARK

  1. Pingback: THE TABLE OF MALCONTENTS 6/8/2013 | ASH

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