Nobody will tell you, but life rarely unfurls in ideal arrangements. Most grow up with dreams like lights guiding towards a harbor. We think, If I️ can only arrive on shore, everything will be alright. How naive man is.

I️ was like you, once, full of visions and verve, confident that someone would discover my talents along the vissitudes of great men before me. I️ remember, as a boy, standing in a graveyard. Rain colored the granite in dark splotches. I️ smelled the freshly churned soil atop my grandmother’s resting place. In the stone a mason chipped away a line between her dates:

Born 1907 - Died 1984

I️ whispered to no one, “I️ don’t want my life to just be a line.”

Things rarely turn out that way.

Days become months become years. Years become decades, and here we all end, alone with our thoughts. Swim as hard as you can, death’s riptide will pull all the same.

Take it from one isolated in this blighted hospice, no one should close their eyes with regret. We all need things on which to look back and feel satisfaction. A legacy, perhaps. Maybe a hand to hold.

Only one actuality surpasses emptiness: a life lived to the full with none left to remember. In other words, to be the last one when you shouldn’t be.

I️ drank too much; that’s what got me. Cirrhosis of the liver, the doctor said. Over time skin and eyes yellowed, my appetite left, legs and ankles swelled. I try to adjust in bed to just breathe, but I’m too tired. My kidneys went last. Hemodialysis didn’t work, though the hospital staff tried, for my sake. All because I️ “imbibed”. Should’ve listened to those damn preachers, but I️ always was a stubborn son of a bitch.

Liquor made living fun - good nights, fine women, nice company. No, even lying here I’d likely do it all again if I️ had the chance.

Had a wife once too: Madeline. Lord almighty, she was something. She started out as another stamp on my frequent flyer card, if you follow. One more late night rendezvous. Turned out, when morning light shined through my blinds, I️ looked down at her sleeping, auburn hair tossled against plaid sheets, and realized I️ didn’t want to get rid of her. Somehow, she didn’t want to get rid of me either. So she stayed over again. One more night turned into 20 years and 3 kids. I️ used to tell her, I’d met good looking women, but she was a “settle down kind of pretty.”

Two boys and a girl, we had: Tony, Paul, and Katie. Home’s where you find purpose. I️ even stopped drinking for a while. I️ just didn’t feel the need. I️ had a good job working as a longshoreman in town. After Tony came along I️ worked harder, got promoted a few times, and wound up a Union Rep. I️’m quite the talker as you’ve noticed.

Guess you could say I️ made it.

I️ did everything for those boys. But when Katie surprised us, Madeline told me my “Eyes lit up like fireworks over the Tennessee.” Daughters change a man, you understand. You don’t love them more than your sons, but you love them different. When you’d tan the hide of a misbehaving son, you indulge the daughter. I️ think it’s because men need strength where women wield empathy. It’s a balancing act. We complement each other well.

Katie-cat looked just like her mother.

Now I️ sense the beckoning darkness at my doorstep. I’ve got no one else to offer confession, and my hour is near.

Work hard, and when someone comes along and lies about you (and they will), fight like hell. Don’t roll over with fear! Don’t let old demons claw you back to the depths! Don’t pick up a damn bottle and lose yourself to it! Your family deserves a better end than squealing tires and twisted metal.

Let this tired old man leave in peace.

Madeline, Tony, Paul, Katie…

Forgive me.