RIP Hack-Bear
Today was the services for my godfather. My dad played Pachelbel's Canon after the reverend said a few words. It was lovely. A really nice spot too, at a cemetairy in Mystic. Parts of the graveyard overlook the seaport. I do wish I could have been at yesterday's services as well. Some of his bandmates rocked out the church. The reverend made mention to him playing music with God now, and said he's not sure if God is ready for that!
I was really glad I went to this. Mostly because I had somethings I wanted to share, and there was a bit where people could come foward and say something if they wanted. It was really great hearing what people had to say about him. Some of them remembered him at super bowl sunday, a lot of them spoke about how he helped them regain their love for the guitar, when they wandered into his music store to sell their guitar, and he said to one of them 'Hell come back next thursday, we'll jam!' and he asked another if he was trying to learn guitar from a book, and said that was his problem. Anyway, I told people about the coffee trick, with the pinch of salt. I was trying to go for a metaphore of how you take a little of somethink that's enjoyable that might not really be good for you, add it to something bitter and it can take the bitterness away, and you can see the sweetness that you might have missed before. I don't know how it sounded. I could barely speak, from the beginning where I started to say 'Hack was my godfather' i couldn't stop crying. I hope that my words at least were understandable.
didn't make it easier that when I stepped foward, his wife, wendy, said 'Hello, Thomas.' I'm never called that anymore. It's just different. I thought she wouldn't recognize me...The other side of Hackett n Wendy.
Anyway, after there were a bunch of people at his old house...same road that he crashed his bike on. I can see why he was going so fast, it's a big road, one of the ones where 45 feels like 10. I thought it was odd that there was no Birch Beer, his favorite. If he were there he would have run to the store on his bike, and picked up a case.
So yeah. Now I'm done with a lot of things. I'm done being a lump. I'm donejust cruising, I'm going to start working harder at doing things that are important to me, becoming who I want to be. I'm moving the entertainment unit out of my room, starting to read before bed, limiting my computer use (for entertainment purposes) to an hour at a time, one movie a day, IF that. I'm trying to get less cluttered, both in my head and in my space. Yeah, I'm not the best housekeeper, but with a little help I can do it. Just keeping space USEABLE when possible would be great, like the kitchen table, living room table, Eric's old room, hell my floor and closet in general. If my space is cluttered, my mind is also, and then I can't reach my potential. Speaking of potential, 3 am has the potential for sleep. it shall be reached.
I was really glad I went to this. Mostly because I had somethings I wanted to share, and there was a bit where people could come foward and say something if they wanted. It was really great hearing what people had to say about him. Some of them remembered him at super bowl sunday, a lot of them spoke about how he helped them regain their love for the guitar, when they wandered into his music store to sell their guitar, and he said to one of them 'Hell come back next thursday, we'll jam!' and he asked another if he was trying to learn guitar from a book, and said that was his problem. Anyway, I told people about the coffee trick, with the pinch of salt. I was trying to go for a metaphore of how you take a little of somethink that's enjoyable that might not really be good for you, add it to something bitter and it can take the bitterness away, and you can see the sweetness that you might have missed before. I don't know how it sounded. I could barely speak, from the beginning where I started to say 'Hack was my godfather' i couldn't stop crying. I hope that my words at least were understandable.
didn't make it easier that when I stepped foward, his wife, wendy, said 'Hello, Thomas.' I'm never called that anymore. It's just different. I thought she wouldn't recognize me...The other side of Hackett n Wendy.
Anyway, after there were a bunch of people at his old house...same road that he crashed his bike on. I can see why he was going so fast, it's a big road, one of the ones where 45 feels like 10. I thought it was odd that there was no Birch Beer, his favorite. If he were there he would have run to the store on his bike, and picked up a case.
So yeah. Now I'm done with a lot of things. I'm done being a lump. I'm donejust cruising, I'm going to start working harder at doing things that are important to me, becoming who I want to be. I'm moving the entertainment unit out of my room, starting to read before bed, limiting my computer use (for entertainment purposes) to an hour at a time, one movie a day, IF that. I'm trying to get less cluttered, both in my head and in my space. Yeah, I'm not the best housekeeper, but with a little help I can do it. Just keeping space USEABLE when possible would be great, like the kitchen table, living room table, Eric's old room, hell my floor and closet in general. If my space is cluttered, my mind is also, and then I can't reach my potential. Speaking of potential, 3 am has the potential for sleep. it shall be reached.