Tears in the Stream

You know, they say that miracles just don't happen anymore. They say that good guys always
finish last. You can merely turn on the television and watch as they disect and tear apart all of the
legends and poke fun at every belief we, as a society, have ever held dear. They have even taken all
of our heroes and spun out countless documentaries highlighting all of their faults but none of the
good things that they had done. They have laughed and mocked anyone that has ever believed in
something that cannot be proven beyond a shadow of a doubt. They have called those people who do
uneducated or unrefined....fanatical people who roam about from one thrill to another. The truth is
that they secretly want to believe but don't have the courage. They must have been heartbroken when
they found out that Santa Claus doesn't really exist (shhh...don't say anything) or that there really
isn't a boogey man or the tooth fairy (even though Dewayne Johnson did a decent job). They want us
all just like them....without hope and without faith. They want us to rely on science and the media
to tell us everything. They seek to be our everything. They are jaded, hurt, and cowardly people that
want us to suffer just like they do.....and I used to be one of them.

As the months rolled by, my Grandpa Bud kept getting weaker and weaker. He once fell to the
ground because his legs gave out on him and no one was there to pick him up until about an
hour later. I just so happened to be coming home from work at the time and noticed the barn door
open. After that, he had to use a wheelchair. He used to be able to run like the wind in his youth
until he got polio in one of his legs, so for the rest of his life (since I had known him) he had always
walked with a limp due to one leg being bigger than the other. So, a wheelchair for him was such
a pain. He couldn't garden anymore which was something he dearly loved to do. He couldn't ride
the tractor anymore which is another thing he loved to do. It was like life gives you everything and
then takes it all back one by one. I could see it effected his pride having to rely on other people
after doing things on his own for so long. His stern and sunstreaked face had relaxed and instead
had gotten soft and plump. He looked different from the man I had watched everyday sitting on
the porch after dinner watching the sky for storms and stars. I remember him teaching me about
the constellations and how cows always lay down before it rains. I remember all the funny stories
and songs he taught me too. He would say:

"Chief Rain-In-Face pee'em agin a wind and make 'em all wet." Oh, and "Chief Crusty-Butt
belonged to the No Wipe'em Tribe." LOL! He taught me some hilarious songs from his father
as well. His name was Brandon Ole Merrill.

One was:

"Oh, Mickey tied his tail around the flagpole and everyone in the valley say his @$$hole." :P

and the other one:

"Wellllll, she jumped in the bed and covered up her head and swore that he couldn't find her.
But he knew damn well that she lied like hell and he jumped right in behind her." RITFL!

{Brandon Merrill (my great-grandfather) was our version of James Dean. He went AWOL
during the Korean Conflict, in protest. My great-grandfather Thomas (my Grannie Merrill's
father) was a World War II veteran and was awarded the Purple Heart (for which he probably
accidently shot himself...LOL). Also on my Grandma Dora Lois' side, we have a membership
in the Sons of the Confederacy (the American Civil War). My father was a few cards away from
being summoned to the Vietnam War but it ended right before he was called. Now, I had best
save all of this info in a later blog because you probably don't want to be needlessly sidetracked.}

Please forgive me but I had to include that. Just so you can see the type of people I was working
with....crazy people...I come from a whole line of CRAZY people! But we were also a family that
believed in lots of hugs and lots of laughs. My Grandpa had never ceased to laugh despite all that
happened to him and that was something that was dearly missing from my life. This man that was
full of life was withering away before me like a living nightmare. This was the man that rubbed my
feet to get me to finally go to sleep my first night in this world and, in my eyes, I couldn't repay that.
No one else could get me to sleep but he always could. He was also the first to spank me after I
touched a cast iron miniature oven after he told me not to. Ultimately, Grandpa Bud decided that he
wanted to come home. The cancer would not go away and he grew tired of being sick all the time.
The doctor asked him if he wanted to know how long he had left and I'll never forget his response.
He said he would die just as he came into this world....not knowing the day or hour. He said he
wanted to be with his family and greet death as an old friend taking him home. I thought that was
the bravest thing that I had ever heard. It's not for a man to know when he goes I think. The only
thing you can hope for is to face it with honor and dignity....having finished a great work. Papa had
traveled out to California when he was my age with all his brothers in a beat up old van that didn't
have any air conditioning. They formed a band called Going Down Swinging and played out of
Needles, California, into places like Los Angeles and Las Vegas. He showed me the places he had
played. The trouble was that my Grandpa had "bad nerves" as he called them. He would take a shot
of whiskey before every gig to settle them. They finally came home when their adventure didn't
really pan out (there wasn't any American Idol yet) and he said that he'd become a drunk if he
stayed out there...so, he came home, met my Grandma, got married and had two awesome sons.
He didn't go back on stage for 40 years...until he noticed that I was keeping rhythm by playing
the drums (tapping the beat on the pew making everyone want to strangle me). He broke out all
his old songbooks and instruments and practised with me night and day. I took the stage for the first
time in Barling, Arkansas, and I was singing Put Your Hand in the Hand of the Man in the key of
G. Anyways, Papa was sent home into hopice care after all that.

Thunder......Lighting.....Flashing....rumbling....

The rain raked the window in the Sequoyah County Nursing Home. The entire Merrill clan,
including friends and their familes, were crammed together into a small room. The local Mazzio's
had supplied us with pizza and drinks. The date was March 18, 2008, and I had walked the halls
and stopped to glance outside. I recalled waiting anxiously at the bottom of the storm cellar, when
I was a child, while Papa and the other men of the small town of Gans surveyed the horizon and
listened to the radio for weather updates. Grandpa lost two houses to tornadoes. One was in 1959
that took out the white house on the hill. My dad and uncle Terry were just children and Grandma
Lois had to lay overtop of them in the back of the car as the sirens wailed. In the aftermath,
Grandma found the only thing that remained....a pencil drawing of my father Barry and his baby
brother Terry. It still hangs above the coat rack in their house to this day. It still has the waterlines
and everything. The other was in 1961 and was a rare, according to Grandpa, tornado from the
north. Those were the strongest he said. That was the last twister to ever touchdown in Gans. They
always split and go northeast or southeast nowadays.

They came and told me the time was very near and that Papa Bud was moaning something about me incoherently.His five brothers and four sisters were still telling old stories about him and laughing
through their tears as I entered. Laughing through their tears....isn't that an Aiel custom in those
Wheel of Time books? Yes, it was...they believed that there is great strength in tears. That's why
I identified with them more than any other faction of Robert Jordan's masterpiece. My DM
character is an Aielman first most definitely. :P

Everyone was crying and holding each other yet I couldn't help but think of what a wonderful way
to leave this world....in a room full of people who love you and cherish your memories and the
moments you gave them. I tried to go to the back of the room but my father told me to take the
seat next to my grandfather. I sat down and I took hold of his hand and, at first, it was limp and
tense but then he gripped my hand...strong and focused. It all just started sinking into me that I was
going to lose him. I knew then that no matter how strong I was or how much training I had done...
no matter how gracefully I could weild a sword or how much weight I could pick up...it finally
hit me that none of that was going to bring him back. I felt so helpless and powerless. I watched
closely as he twitched and turned...moaned and squirmed all while holding desperately to my hand.
Just as desperately as I clinged to him when I was frightened by the storms when I was so little.
As the rain pelted the windowpane, I just let all the pain and hurt swell up and....I cried my eyes
out. The tears streamed down my cheeks until it flowed down my shirt. I didn't think I had that
much liquid in me. Many people might think I am making this up but I'm not. He opened his
eyes and squeezed my hand. He whispered that love....love conquers all. He nodded to me lightly
and said, "Tell them...show them how to love." He closed his eyes for the last time and the
lightning lit up the night sky.....the thunder crashed and boomed....I thought of...I thought of my
life as a storm. I realized that every person has their own storm to conquer...their own eye at the
center where there is peace and safety. I became Thorkin that night....a person always trying to
master his storm and help others master theirs. My Grandpa once told me, during my dark years,
that one day I "would no longer be undone because I'd have two hearts that beat as one." His along
with mine.

I discover the Dragonmount.com Forums in the next blog and begin the long and perilous road
to healing. More to come soon!

-Thork