Hello WordPress World!

Good morning, evening, or day! Depending on where you’re currently sitting.

I’m having a great morning and wanted to spread the feeling to anyone who stumbles upon this post.

And just in case you might need a bit of a pick-me-up, here’s this:

  1. You kick ass as you.
  2. You don’t need permission.
  3. You are loved.
  4. You are strong.
  5. You’re one step away from the next.
  6. Look up, the sky sees you, you are never alone.
  7. Close your eyes. See it. Get it.

 

Cheers, everyone!

Matt

 

Never Give Up

I believe there is great strength in the ones who fight to not abandon. I think we all carry levels of pain. Some scars we can all easily see and help to care for and caress back to a version of functional health. Others are buried so deeply they’ll never be seen or fully understood. I find weakness in the ones that abandon. A selfishness that destroys itself in final completeness.

Overcome Hardship, lead, and live well.

My family is riddled with suicide
I myself am not suicidal
Quite the opposite. I love life.
In fact for much of my life I’ve experienced
Jealousy from others over my ability
To be happy in terrible situations
And unfortunately I’ve been forced to live
through a few extra ordinarily bad situations
But that’s OK. I learned to enjoy watching leaves drop
And how to find solace in the darkness of my eyelids
Nothing is too large for me to handle
My confidence, I’m forced to shade, yet people still see
And it bothers them
And so be it
I was the one ready for the midnight phone call
When he said he’d taken the pills
With the alcohol and that he’d be dead soon
I was the one on the phone when the police
entered his home with the paramedics
Listening to him scream for them to leave
I was the one who calmed him
The one that walked his mind to the ambulance
to thank the police and EMTs for trying to
let him live
I called the hospital they were taking him to
I was on the phone with their personnel in the
Emergency room while he was being wheeled in
‘Yes, we’ll have a psychiatrist sent in as soon
as they empty his stomach. Thank you for this
information.’ I had to tell them things he would
not have. The root of his weakness.
I don’t know why these things happen
I know that I am blessed because these moments
are never too large for me.
He is now happily married and an amazing father
And one of my favorite people on this Earth
I told him two years before he tried committing suicide
that he was going to try to end his life
So when the phone rang and I saw the number
I was ready
Because I’ve already lost too many family members
this way
So no, I am not suicidal, but I write about death and suicide
because I know it well and I know its pace
and the path it takes
I am not afraid of death
I am concerned with the process which leads to death
I think to die well matters
And if you haven’t found your absolute truth of
how this all works
Well, I hope you do
Because I know beyond doubt
That we are not alone

-M. Taggart

Thanks for reading. This wasn’t easy to write.

One Strong Megan

I almost lost my wife. Last Tuesday Megan stayed home from work. Just before noon I heard my name called from upstairs. Followed by the sound of Megan landing on the bathroom floor. I was downstairs feeding Gavin his lunch.

Megan’s head was in between the toilet and the shower. She was just opening her eyes. Her breathing was highly elevated. She was perspiring heavily. I started asking basic questions. She wasn’t able to focus her eyes. From my point of view, Megan did not know who I was.

I flat lined emotionally. Everything slowed down. I had my cell phone in my hand while asking Megan, “Would you like an ambulance?” I was calling regardless of her answer. She was pregnant. We found out the previous Friday night that the pregnancy was ectopic. Monday morning she had a follow up with her doctor to confirm what the emergency room told her Friday night. Her doctor gave her two shots of metho, told her she might feel cramping, but that she’d be able to go to work on Tuesday.

There I squatted, on Tuesday, pushing the hair from my wife’s face. “Yes, she’s starting to come to. Yes, she know’s who she is. No her color seems alright. (I am color blind.) Hunni, they are telling me to tell you that help is on the way. Ma’am, I need to run downstairs and get my son out of his high chair. He’ll tip it over. Yes, I’ll be fast and I’ll come back up to be with Megan.” Thank God Megan is strong.

The doctor was wrong. The worst possible situation was happening. Megan had suffered a rupture and was bleeding internally.

“Be a good boy, Gavin.” I had just placed Gavin in his nursery area. I ran back upstairs.

“Ma’am I can hear the sirens, I’m going to let you go.”

“Megan, you’re going to be O.K. The ambulance is outside. I’ll be right back. I need to open the door for them. -Yes, please come in. She’s directly up the stairs and straight into the bathroom.- Gavin, Mommy is going to be OK. Please don’t cry. Please don’t cry.”

I called Megan’s sister while the ambulance drove away. ‘Get to the Hospital. Call me as soon as you know if she’ll need surgery.”

Megan was rushed into emergency surgery. She was bleeding so badly they were literally watching her stomach rise. Her blood pressure was becoming close to even. I arrived at the hospital too late. I stood in line to be told where she was. Her sister appeared and told me they couldn’t wait any longer. They didn’t know I was standing in line at the front desk. No cell reception.

The surgeon, Lillian, saved my wife’s life. Lillian was, and is amazing. “Mr. Taggart, she suffered internal damage. The pregnancy ruptured. She lost 1.3 liters of blood. She bled into her abdomen. There was other damage too. Would you like to see the pictures. We had no choice. We believe we did the right thing.”

My wife was dying on our bathroom floor. I am still flat-lined emotionally. Megan finally is home and resting. I am so thankful. I am so thankful. She has a long recovery in front of her. She won’t be returning to work until after Christmas. She can’t lift over ten pounds for six weeks. She can’t lift our son. She can’t rock our son. This has stolen a portion of her life. She has been afraid to sleep for fear of not waking up. When she does sleep she has nightmares. I love my wife. Seeing the hurt this has placed on my wife is something I may not forgive.

Her pregnancy hormones were 31k at her doctors office. The cut off for the medicine administered to my wife is 5k.

This never should have happened.

After Megan’s surgery Megan fainted in the bathroom. Two nurses held her in place until a team of nurses helped bring her back to her bed. I stood watching. Arms folded. Useless. Straight faced. Upset, for what my wife was being forced to endure. Megan was anemic and now needed a blood transfusion. After her surgery we were told they tried to remove all of the blood that had bled into her abdomen, but that it was impossible to do. The remaining blood would slowly be absorbed. However, the process would be painful. Blood is an irritant when placed where it ought not be. Megan struggled to move for a number days.

Family arrived from numerous states to help. Help support us. Help watch Gavin so I could sleep next to Megan at the hospital. This event surrendered us, placed us in a position of hope and sadness. It effected our entire family structure and friends.

Now though, as we near Christmas, we are thankful. I am focusing on the positive. Megan will be home with us. She can read to Gavin. She can sit with Gavin and play with dinosaurs. She can tell him she loves him and give him kisses. But please Gavin, no jumping on Mommy. Lets just be happy that you have your mother. The thought of Gavin growing up without Megan is too devastating for me to process.

The night we brought Megan home, I said to myself ‘my head closed today.’ And the repeating started. There’s ONE person who reads my writing who knows what that means. That was the closest I came. I’m flat emotionally and that’s where I need to be for just a bit longer. Until then we’ll drive after the sun goes down and enjoy showing Gavin the Christmas lights. We’ll drive on the dirt roads and look for dino’s in the forest. We’ll watch Christmas movies. We’ll place Gavin next to Mommy and let the cuddles begin. It’s time to build memories.

I said I almost lost my wife. Megan was too strong to let that happen.

Gavin

photo (71)

 

summer maine

Megan and I

 

 

 

 

Odd Walking Thoughts – Don’t keep

We walk into the shadow of death to pull one wounded child from its depths, to find another daft man standing in the corner. Leaves are shuffling outside my window. A man with a golden heart is gone. Another stands in a room looking. Don’t block me. I am here and at least I have my fingers. The man in the room standing, looking daft, asks for silence because silences never questions. Never says a damn word. The girl with the golden brow would have cared for a word. And the boy with the covers pulled tight would have cared for the same.
**
copyright 2017
-M. Taggart

Odd Walking Thoughts –

Anger is freedom. Tell this to a peaceful mind who’s never known, or literally felt the hand of abuse, and you’ll find a child tossed like an outcast. Alone, habitually, alone. Anger will rise- showing a path. A path the child absorbs and carves larger because no one else would. The mouths now turn toward the audience, wide open, spilling secrets of lies. And they preach, always, this emotion is wrong. You are wrong. Anger is wrong. You are unwanted. The mouths preach this untruth to the child. The lies grow from one perfectly peaceful mind to another. And the child sits alone. Carving their path. Having learned to read the most important story of all.

-M. Taggart

Thanks for reading.

Here’s another ‘Odd Walking Thoughts’
https://mtaggartwriter.wordpress.com/2016/08/04/odd-walking-thoughts-again-the-frog/

A Two-Hearted Christmas

A Two-Hearted Christmas
Fiction written by -M. Taggart
copyright 2016

Snow was falling lightly. It was just after sunset and already dark. Nick watched as his shoes left snowy footprints on the brick walk-way. He looked skyward at the Christmas tree they had fastened into place two days prior. They placed the tree roughly fifteen feet before the large glass door entrance of the building. The tree was dressed nicely. Numerous Christmas colors were wrapped around, and around, the near thirty-foot evergreen. There, on the top of the tree, stood a Christmas star large enough to be seen from any angle. The star was lit white. The snow fell toward the star, disappeared in its light, and again you could see the snow falling a few feet below the star.

People were rushing into the store. It was cold and not many stood to observe decorations on the tree. It was as though they had seen enough just to have been near it. They didn’t know the work it took to stand upright. Or how ropes were tightened so well that the tree couldn’t possibly fall. Even if wind rushed in during a New England blizzard and one of the many tie downs did break, the tree would still stand.

That was alright though, to have them not notice. It was a Christmas tree among hundreds in town. Created to lure the shopper into the lights of the store and welcome them to spend what they could.

Once inside the entrance one was thrust into a large, bright, room. So large that you could hardly see the end of it. Silver trays and cutlery shined vibrantly. Brilliant glass cases held exquisite items from all around the world. Attractive sales women wearing slim dresses greeted him, along with all others, with a smile. ‘There’s a shipment out back. We tried to have them put the boxes inside for you, but they wouldn’t do it. It’s on the loading dock.’

He slid his time card into place and listened to the faint, yet punishing, blow the time keeper slammed into place. He was now working. His wool jacket was hung. He’d put his dinner in the fridge. First he needed to get the boxes out of the snow, down the stairs into the stockroom, and checked in. After all boxes were accounted for properly, he’d open each with his box cutter, and unwrap every item within the box onto his work tables. He’d check for cracks and breaks of any kind. He’d also check to be sure each box contained the amount of items the packing slip claimed they held. He was getting ahead of himself again. He first needed to walk through the showroom. Then he needed to enter the code on the stockroom door and move the boxes from the dock, downstairs, to the stockroom.

In the showroom shoppers were talking with sales people while snow was still on the shoulders of their jackets. Some shoppers brushed the snow off and others left it because they did not notice the snow was there. As he walked quickly through the showroom many of the salespeople nodded hello to him without the customer realizing. He would either nod back, or do nothing. A face kept clean of emotion was the best face for him to wear.

He noticed an older man viewing him as he walked. He looked away. The man now moved toward him thinking he was a salesperson. ‘Can you give me the price of this globe? There’s no sticker.’

It was a Josh Simpson globe. They came in many sizes. The old man held the largest size in his hand. The globe was very expensive and generally were locked in a glass showcase. He knew this globe was expensive because he put the price stickers on each item in the basement stockroom, where he had been headed.

‘I’m sorry. I don’t know the price. If you asked Jamie, over there,’ he pointed to a dark haired girl with blue eyes, ‘She’d be able to help you.’

‘I didn’t ask, Jamie. I asked you.’ the old man replied.

Now both stood looking at one another. The old man wanted to know why this able young man couldn’t answer a simple question. The younger man wanted to know why he was ordered not to.

‘I’m sorry. I can’t help you.’

The old man viewed the many details inside the globe and shook his head while letting go a whistle. The world within contained mountains with cliffs and rivers that emptied into an ocean. The tree tops were green with needles. The waves were white with wind. ‘This globe holds an entire world within. I hold this globe wondering if our world is anything like the giant holding it now. And I wish badly it is not. I cannot understand how this happens.’

‘I’m sorry?’ He didn’t understand the old man.

‘Nothing. I’ll walk to Jamie and giver her the globe. I’ll not buy it.’ And with a step the old man was headed toward Jamie. Jamie wore a wide smile and her eyes curved upward.

***

The door to the loading dock was open and he could see the many boxes left for him. The boxes that were left outside on the dock were covered with snow. The temperature was much cooler on the dock and he liked it. The snow storm had increased its snowfall and the wind was picking up.

He brushed snow off the tops of the boxes only to watch more snow quickly accumulate. Looking at the dark underbelly of the snow producing cloud simplified his mood. It didn’t matter if he didn’t understand the old man’s meaning. The glass globe with the artist’s creation inside wasn’t him and it wasn’t life so it did not matter.

He lifted and carried each box to the conveyor belt, next to the stairwell, and watched them travel down toward his stockroom. His tie was wet with snow and beaten by the cardboard. He wanted to take it off, but he was told to never take his tie off. He need to look appropriate when walking through the show room.

At the bottom of the stairs was a cement hallway leading to one door. The door was the entrance to the stockroom. The conveyor belt flattened at the bottom of the stairs and there was a ten foot section where boxes came to a stop and lined themselves. He walked to the stockroom door, unlocked it with his key, and came back out with a hand-truck. The boxes were not heavy. He loaded the hand-truck above his head and quickly had them all stacked near his work tables in his stockroom.

The stockroom had a cement floor and cement walls. There were no windows. In the middle of the room were metal shelving units. There was a section for overstock, broken items, cancelled products and general tools that might be needed around the showroom. Generally each shelf was kept orderly. Unless he wasn’t there and a salesperson needed to find an item that was no longer on the showroom floor. If this were the case he’d find products left on the floor and items placed on shelves that didn’t belong.

His work tables were in front of the shelving units and a alley-way of sorts was created. He would work quickly and open each box, empty them and be done with his work as soon as possible. He clicked the switch of the small radio to on. Elvis was singing, ‘I’ll be home for Christmas.’ He turned the radio off and held his breath. Images of her sleeping on his shoulder tore through his mind. His head shook as flashes of his fingers stroking her hair came to him. He always wondered if she knew that he stroked her hair when she slept. He wanted to ask her. He couldn’t now. It was done and too late. He paced the stockroom floor thinking of her face and how it looked when she was sad. That was the face he made her wear. He didn’t want to remember this. Maybe it wasn’t too late, he wondered. Maybe he could undue everything. Maybe the old man with the globe could explain what he’d meant. He didn’t want to think of the old man either, but he was. The old man said something about wishing badly it was not. Did he mean that the world would be nothing like him and what he’d done to it? Is that how he felt now about her?

The stockroom door opened in a rush. ‘Nick, we need you out at the Christmas tree right away,’ said Bill. Bill was wearing a suit and a long wool jacket. The jacket was black. Bill was one of the two owners of the silver smith company. The store with the large showroom upstairs was their creation to sell to the locals.

‘What’s going on?’ he asked.

‘There’s oil all over the walkway outside. It goes from the base of the tree to the entrance. Eric is standing near the oil asking people to not walk in it. Find something to clean it up and get up there.’ Bill looked upset and talked as though he were pushing his words. Bill turned and rushed back out the door.

Nick walked to the back of the stockroom and grabbed a bundle of cloth rags. They weren’t perfect to soak oil, but they’d do for now. He wondered how the tree had anything to do with oil.

Holding his bundle of cloth rags he ran up the stairs and opened the door to the showroom. He made his way through the happy shoppers and then outside. The tree stood so beautifully that the men standing over the oil spill looked badly out of place. Both brother’s straddled the oil spill just feet from one another. They held their hands up and pleaded with customers to stay back and to not slip on the oil. They told anyone who’d listen that the oil would be cleaned up shortly. The long wool jacket’s looked like crow’s wings while they opened and closed their arms to ward people away from the danger.

Nick still didn’t understand how oil would come to be anywhere near the tree. But, certainly he did see a trail leading from the base of the tree all the way to the entrance of the showroom door. Both Bill and Eric seemed relieved to see him with his rags.

Nick knelt down and touched the oil. He lifted his finger and smelled the oil. A few customers had stopped to watch. Nick walked to Bill and softly said, ‘This is not oil. This is water. Someone must have watered the Christmas tree.’

Bill wore a face of pure happiness. ‘That’s great!’ Eric had listened and decided he’d been straddling the mess long enough. He left them without a word and mingled with himself while walking through the showroom, no doubt to find his office.

As Nick wiped away the spilled water he couldn’t help but chuckle. Both men were rich. Both men were educated. But neither were aware enough to bend down and touch or smell the oil. How does this happen, he thought. How can two men who seemingly have everything have so little sense.

Immediately the old man’s face leapt into his mind. He knew what to do. It wasn’t too late. He would fix this. He looked at the star on top of the Christmas tree and let the snow land and melt on his face. He’d never felt snow like this before and he’d never know Christmas until now.

The End.

If you enjoyed this please also read my self published short story found via the amazon link below. Thank you, Matt.

If you would like to contact me concerning this story, or any of my writing, please email me at matt@everythingcu.com

A Mother Endures

Hadly was an enduring mother. Her twins, Peter and Elizabeth, were taking a nap. Her youngest, Jenny, was on her lap. She was rocking the baby to sleep. Her brow was set. Once all three were asleep she’d have an opportunity.

What was left of the day’s sunshine spilled through the half open window shade which shown a path of light to the opening of the closet where soiled children’s clothes lay. She would do a load of laundry as soon as Jenny was asleep, she thought.

Hadly watched Jenny’s heavy eyes. The baby was blinking and with each blink her tiny eyelids were staying closed longer. Within minutes Jenny’s eyes would shut and not open again for at least a half hour. Hadly smelled the top of Jenny’s head and nuzzled her. She told her she loved her in a soothing tone.

Hadly took notice of the changing table’s mess. She needed to remember to clean the linen and wash the wood where the soiled diaper had slipped from her hands. The baby had kicked and gotten her heal into the diaper unexpectedly. Normally she would have placed the diaper in a position where even if Jenny had kicked, it wouldn’t have mattered.

The baby took one last blink and was asleep. Hadly kissed Jenny’s head and slowly rose from the rocking chair and walked to the crib. She cradled Jenny’s head and lowered her body, gently, and smoothed Jenny’s hair as always. She again told Jenny she loved her, turned to the closet, gathered the dirty clothes, and walked out of the nursery.

While walking down the hallway, with the clothes in her arms, she quietly peered into the bedroom to view the twins. Peter was sleeping face down in an awkward position, but she could see his body rise with each breath; there was no worry. Elizabeth slept on her side, facing her. Elizabeth was small for a three year old. Her cheeks were rosy and always flushed to a degree even when inside and asleep.

Every afternoon was a variation of this. One way or another she’d entice the twins into a nap and then she’d rock Jenny to sleep. Finally she’d have a small amount of time to handle items around the house before learning if her husband would come home on time, or not at all.

Hadly stood in front of the bathroom mirror. She had started the laundry and now had to decide if she wanted to shower, or wash bottles. Her face looked stern and caring. Her eyes looked vibrant and knowing, but if you knew when to look, you’d see they were tired. She didn’t allow herself to view her tired eyes, only the vibrant because there wasn’t time to be tired. And now she needed to quickly decide, shower, or bottles.

Her husbands hands-off approach was something she took as a personal challenge. It was not a punishment. She had wanted and gotten the children she’d dreamed of having. Last night he had come home late. This didn’t surprise, nor anger her. Last week he hadn’t come home at all on Tuesday night. This was happening so regularly now that the children had stopped asking questions.

She softened her brow to view the creases ease. She let the memory of having moved away from her family and friends steal a few precious seconds. She thought of how difficult it had been to give her career away, but she had done it. Then, they had lost the first one. She endured and now they have three. She smiled at herself in the mirror and a small tear formed. She let it drop freely down her cheek and onto her chin. She had time for one tear and a shower if she hurried.

I’ve endured my entire life. Maybe enduring isn’t enough, she thought.

*

Copyright 2016 -M. Taggart

Note: I wrote this with limited time Sunday morning with my wife, Megan, and eight month old, Gavin, in back of me. They are in bed watching cartoons. Gavin is babbling at his toys and Megan is drinking coffee I had brought to her a few moments ago. I’ve never written in the same room as my family. I like this story and may develop it further. Thanks for reading, Matt.

If you enjoyed this short story you might also like my self published short story found on amazon via the link below: