Small Victories After a Loss

I used to call my Mom every night at 10:30 and ask if she was in for the night.

She was never in, but she was happy to have her son call and ask.

I consider calling your mother at 10:30 to make sure she made it in safe for the night, a small victory.

it’s the right thing to do. It’s love.

That’s a victory.

Mom got up around 6 or 7.

We would speak around 10. Off to a good day!

I miss her soul.

My Mom was a good Mom. She set a good example. I stepped into narcotics anonymous at 19. I set a bad example. For myself, and for my family. My friends.

Yeah, I miss my Mom. She was the best. She was easy to talk to. She was always there, even if I wasn’t.

Missing Mom is a small victory. How could I not?

Having grief around my mothers passing is a victory. How could I not?

I have a hard time finding happiness these days, because I’m the son I should have been now. Old Carter new. New Carter forever.

I have God in my life. I have my mother in my heart. I don’t want to be happy. I want my mother.

At 31 years old, I’m trying to staying sober. To try is weak, but it’s a victory.

I’m learning about her. Now that she’s gone. I’m learning about me. Now that she’s gone.

Mom.

I’ve been wondering if I am the man she wanted me to be.

That may not be a victory, but being proud of the man I am, and continuing to grow, at 31 is a victory.

I keep writing. I keep writing songs. She would want that.

Victory, of all things.

Im finding I’m a weak man. That’s not a victory. Acknowledging it and moving forward is a victory. Finding strength my goal.

I want more strength. I do not want power. I want more strength. Strength of character. Faith. Values. Discipline. All the right things.

I’m not a wolf, or a shark like some of these other grade A hero’s. I’m more likely to fit in along the lines with a coyote. That’s a victory.

Life’s a fable. It can be anything it needs to be.

Victory!

I can write the story of my life, and I will. People will try and write our stories for us. They have nothing better to do.

I’m not happy these days. I’m not going to be happy like I once was. There is joy in my life, but my smile is different. We all can smile. But my heart is on fire, alone, torn, and shut in. That’s my victory. Somehow reminding everyone not everybody is happy all the time is my victory. People are downtrodden. People are beat. That’s what music is for. The downtrodden, and the beat.

I blame myself a lot for her passing. I caused stress. I can’t fail at life. I can’t fail at everything that caused her any stress. I want to stay clean, and I have to.

I’m not a one and done. I’m the majority. Sadly. Three years on, 6 months off historically. I can beat those odds. I can write better songs. I can write better poetry. I do, I can, and I will.

Moving to Austin was whimsical. I don’t regret it. I’m glad I did it. Somehow it’s helped me find myself again. It’s helped me find my heart again. It’s helped me find my soul, and find God.

I feel like the devil. I feel like she might have a lower place in heaven because of me. And even if demons come to get me, then fuck it. I’ll suffer and squander and squawk and holler. Everyone can have their laugh. I’ll hold my ground. A day will come when everyone feels my pain, and my grief. That day will be my victory.

Sadly, some say it does not matter. There is a larger picture at play.

The insignificance of my life is comparable a grain of sand, on a beach. Apart of a larger ecosystem. Our galaxy, the milkeyway. Which in itself is a grain of sand in a larger galaxy. My problems don’t matter in bigger picture. There are things that are completely out of my hands.

However small this grain of sand is, it’s coarse & it’s rough. It’s sharp & its made of love. It’s bright, and mysterious. It’s here to stay. It cannot be destroyed, and it’s here. Meaningless & in its place as it stays in peace. Made of love, & under the care of God.