Dry Tears

Five, slow dreadful years. 

That's how long it’s been since my departure from the “good” life. My vessel long gone after accompanying the seabed and becoming a snack for the creatures that lurked in the darkness. The brake line on my hectic life was cut and I began speeding into oncoming traffic. Drugs, forgotten birthdays and Vegas stripper escapades had it’s way with me. Heavy on the Vegas strippers. My fast life finally made contact with death and came to a halt. Peer pressure is a bitch isn’t it?  “I bet you won’t jump in”, is all my demons needed to hear. And boy did they takeover with the assistance of casamigos. I tossed my trucker hat into the dark abyss and jumped in. Instant regret as soon as my feet lifted off the deck. The midnight sea could only be seen from the cruise-ship's outer fog-lights. We were surrounded by darkness and the sounds of waves crashing along the ship. The currents were unforgiving, I could see frantic movement at the edge of the deck and muffled screams as I struggled to break the surface. The light got dimmer and the screams were fading. The sea was wrapping around my body and pulling me down as the ship was leaving me. My screams were gargled and lungs started to fill with water and distress. 

This was it.

   At that moment I was thinking about my son Jacob and his baseball game at the end of that week, a game that I wasn’t going to show up to anyways because of my “tight schedule”. The last game I missed, I facetimed a day after the game asking how everything went. I made up a shitty excuse like I always do when he would ask me about my whereabouts. Speaking to him all while I had a young brunette sleeping like a baby in my bed; her nude back displaying a tattoo of my name, “Rob” on her upper back . Jacob deserved better and at this moment so did I. I tried clawing through the water as dread and regret continued to rinse my thoughts. Am I really about to die? All the dances I had with death and this was the way I was going out. 

   A white light was approaching me, I could feel my body vibrate and hear a deafening ringing, then immediate silence. Everything stopped, the sea was quiet, the sound of whooshing because my arms were flailing ceased. Just silence and a void. Somehow, I could now see my body, lifeless and carefree making its way deeper into the darkness. Who knew drowning could look so peaceful. 

So this is what death felt like?

 I guess heaven couldn't forgive my wicked ways and the line to Hell was too long. My soul traveled to the cruise ship, and I could see hysteria took its course. Drunk Anger and frustration consumed my friend Todd, who was giving the captain an earful. The brunette I was with that night didn’t even shed a tear. Not one single tear or sign of concern. The search party didn’t even continue after five days. My body was lost at sea, but my soul remained; I was trapped and forced to watch the life of others play out. 

Could this be purgatory?

  My memorial service was beyond degrading. I went from touring the world and selling out arenas, to a 20 chair memorial service, I guess my karma for being a douche made its rounds. My own mother didn’t even show up. She disowned me five years ago, but I couldn’t even get a farewell? In our last argument she pointed at me and said , “What have you done with my son, whoever you are, you can go to hell.” She held an old family photo and held it up to my face. Well, hell didn’t even want me ma . My son Jackson was in shambles; wiping snotty mucus into a tissue that was already drenched with expired tears. My wife Sam knew I wasn’t shit and she did her best to keep my little man above water that day. I still question why she wouldn't just file for divorce, but it made more sense to me as she held my little man that day. I had to watch as facetime screenshots rolled across the memories display, because I didn’t have recent pictures with my son. I tried to bawl my eyes out, but I couldn’t. Never in my life have I wanted to cry so bad. I guess purgatory has a no tears clause. Rolling in late as always, offering condolences was my band mates who weren’t the best of family men either. My friend Todd, who was our bass guitarist, took it the hardest. I could tell he circled back to his alcoholic habits and from the bruises on his fist and shades, he was throwing down at the local bar. I couldn’t imagine the guilt that was impaling his heart, considering he was the one who said, “I bet you won’t jump in”. This is what I get for living the life of a “rockstar”, torn relationships, sad faces, and guilt. Heavy on the guilt.

Was it all worth it?

Touring various countries, hooking up with backstage hookers and popping pills like candy.

“You only live once” they say.

 Well unfortunately I live again. I take that back. This isn’t living, I’m trapped in a nightmare. Five years since my death and every year gets harder. My son has a girlfriend, who has that same angelic presence like his mother, but she has no clue he’s unfaithful just like his no good daddy. I watched him hide drugs from his mother. My boy was hurting and I could only play passenger princess. I watched over his shoulder many times as he wrote in his daily journal. He would always start with issues at school and always found a way to correlate that with me being a shitty father. I couldn’t blame him, the daddy issues curse was a thing in our family line. I became the man I hated for so long and now my son was on the same path. Honestly, I just wanted to hug him. I just wanted five minutes in the flesh to wrap my arms around him. Throughout these 5 years Sam was putting on an Oscar performance. In Front of Jacob she remained stoic and hardened, but would crumble as she removed makeup during her nightly routine. I watched her cry herself to sleep for these past five years. I couldn’t tell the source of those tears, was it because she was finding no success in the dating world or was it because she had an inclination Jacob was already on the path of his old man? My guess is all of the above and more. No positives came out of my death. Just front seat torture. Many of us crucify ourselves between two thieves- regret for the past and fear of the future.