Love For The Lonely.

Valentine's Day can be a poignant occasion.  Those who are in love can embrace the day with joyous celebration.  For those who have loved; it can be a day of longing reflection.  For those who have never felt love, the lonely; it can be a day of great sadness and despair.
I am blessed with knowledge that once I was loved.  Yet, I ache with pain. Pain from the recollection of what the relentless onslaught of my illness, my mental illness, did to the very foundations of my fragile ego.  Illness stole my love and turned me into an apathetic spectator, barely aware of the simple wonders of life.  I lived in a fog and the insidious nature of  that fog, that terrifying fog, enshrouded me in a life devoid of love.
Somehow , with my last ounce of strength; I gazed through my fog, found a moment of clarity and discovered the fading remnants of hope and self-respect.  I challenged myself and the negative environment that had nearly destroyed me.  I set myself free.  No longer would I be shackled by the chains of my illness.  I had come to the profound realisation that I had choices and I chose to understand that my mental health concerns would no longer dictate my right to a peaceful, happy life.
Those who have love must savour every precious moment.  Those who have love, must never be too busy to take such a fragile yet powerful commodity for granted.  Those who have been loved can learn to love again.
Some will walk hand in hand and gaze into each others eyes.  Some will recall lost love.  Some will wonder if love will ever come into their lives.
So now, as Valentine's Day approaches; let us spare a thought for those who have never been in a loving relationship.  Love for the lonely and a more caring, compassionate world for us all.

For The Love Of A Son.

The above photographs are of my son on his seventh birthday. This would be his last birthday in our home as a family unit. For the next five long, painful, heartbreaking years, Tristan was barely in my life. Due to my ongoing mental illness, compounded by the evils of drink, my wife thought it best that they leave. She did was she knew was right and I respect what she did.

Five years of desperation, five years of coming so close to killing myself, five years of battling the opposing forces in my mind. Somewhere in that murky fog that surrounded my being, I noticed the flickering light of opportunity. The opportunity to find some clarity, the chance to make amends with those confused by my illness.

I had enough resolve left to reach out for those last fragile threads of my sanity. His visits to me increased. My former spouse, seeing that I was trying so hard to be better, to get better, allowed Tristan to stay on the weekends. He was now nearly twelve, he told me that he was so sad.

My little boy, my little 'man', had to tell his Mother that he was not happy, he wanted to live with Dad. For many a week he thought through how he would tell his Mum. For many a week, I told him that it best that I stayed in the background whilst he wrestled with his dilemma. I knew that if I spoke on his behalf, it would most likely be construed that I had tried to influence him.

All I ever wanted for Tristan was for him to be happy. Regardless of who he lived with. Early September, 200l, my son came to live with me. I recall so vividly that September morning, when he went off to meet new people, make new friends at Westwood high school. In our hallway, he stood in front of the full length mirror and stated: "Dad, I'm well nervous." I gave him a reassuring smile. Off he went, a new start, a new life. I was so proud of Tristan, I can imagine how anxious the thought of starting again must have been.

So now I was a single Father. A single Father battling with his mental health issues. Yet, know I had motivation, a reason to live. I was determined to make my home a warm, safe environment for Tristan and his new friends. I discovered a renewed energy, an invigorating sensation, to get things done. I decorated my home, heck, I even kept it neat. My goodness, I was so house-proud.

Today, I looked out my window, observed the beauty of the garden I created. I reflected back over the last seven years and thought about just how far I've come, indeed, how far we both had travelled. Our journey has been one of much emotional upheaval, with many a high and low. I know that, one day, he will travel down another road. This road will lead to his destiny. I applaud him, I cheer him, I know he will be alright.

My son has bestowed upon me a great gift. The gift of wanting to live. My son has saved my life. For the love of a son, I know that my life has a purpose.

Too Busy?

Too busy to give the time of day?
Too busy to watch the children play?
Too busy to hear the call of the loon?
Too busy to marvel at the waxing moon?
Too busy to help the man in need?
Too busy consumed with the thought of greed?
Too busy to observe the setting sun?
Too busy to have a bit of fun?
Too busy to listen to the wind through the trees?
Too busy to put a friend at ease?
Too busy to enjoy life's simple pleasures?
Too busy to care about the world's hidden treasures?
Too busy to stroll through the morning dew?
Too busy to say 'I love you'?
Are you too busy?
At what cost?
Think of all the times you lost.

Fleeting Glimpses In The Shadows.

Fleeting glimpses in the shadows
Shadows cast across my mind
Through the haze of confusion
I cast my thoughts upon the flickering light of hope
Lost in a stormy sea of mental confusion
I reach for the threads of fading optimism
Lost in a world
Where the cynics scream my name
This man, this sad and lonely man
Defies the insincere
I travel along the pathway
That leads to empathy
I am the child that embraces
The remaining embers of hope
I seek that elusive dream
The dream of contentment
Through the fleeting glimpses in the shadows
I see the light of love