With Grace and Dignity:
For William McVeigh
Stoicism Haiku
Bold and unafraid.Facing death with eyes open.
Stoic to the end.
A Father's Pain
Don't grieve for what's gone.It's time to start living again.
Shun the darkness, where sunlight shone.
Try to struggle through the pain.
I would never venture to say to you, Bill
That I know just how badly you feel.
I never buried a child; hope I never will.
Your wounds will take many years, Bill, to heal.
My compassion for you shows no sign of abating.
I wish I could give you the strengh to go on.
Try to go on living--yet never stop waiting,
One day rain will cease and you'll heal in the sun.
Your son fought his battles in front of the world.
As a strong freedom fighter he saw no way out.
Alone and secluded, his life came unfurled.
He knew what brave battles for peace were about.
Someday you'll look backward and then realize
You didn't die too, when your stoic son perished.
When the new dawn begins and you open your eyes,
You'll know how those years with your Timmy are cherished.
-----enigmacat.
2003.
Timmy? Are you up there listening to me right now? Ever since your last birthday, I find myself missing you more than ever. Whoever said that "time heals all wounds" has made a big mistake. Time does nothing except make me ever older. Time can be my enemy as well: I may live another thirty or forty years, my son. It's not supposed to be like this! A parent isn't suppost to outlive his child. I may have thirty more years to rattle on in this cold, cruel world----the same number of years you lived. I know that you said it was okay about the execution and I hope you understand why your mother, sisters and I couldn't go and watch them poison you to death like that. Please don't think less of me, Timmy. I forced myself to watch CNN--that is, until that sick and disgusting "countdown to the McVeigh death." I don't believe that anyone has the right to take a life. Nobody but God. As I told you before you died, I just don't know why you had to do that bombing and kill all those people. You just kept saying, "I did what I had to do, but I am sorry for putting you through this." Timmy, why couldn't you come to me when you felt that bad, that angry? I know that we had become virtual strangers over the past few years and I thank your late grandfather for taking up the cause to try and reach you. Now it's too late for any of us. There's just so much loss, so much tragedy.
There are some days when I can't even tie my shoe laces. Your mother cries all the time, as does Patty. Jennifer is down south teaching. She changed her name and is trying to start over with a clean slate. Our family is spread all over the place. Timmy, you may not like to hear this, but I am so very angry at you for speeding up your day of death as you did. Why couldn't you have just stayed quiet and let the rest of your appeals get filed? I know that you didn't have much of a life in prison---you always cherished your freedom so---but choosing to be put to death as quickly as possible? Why did you do that to us? Why didn't you think of your family? It's like suicide. You had said that your execution was little more than "a state-assisted suicide."
Timmy, I think I'll stop talking now. I seem to keep saying things over and over anyway. I know we will all be together someday. I don't believe you will burn in hell. Many people wish that to be true. But I know that, deep down, you were a good person, despite everything. That's all I have to hang onto now and I'll be damned if anyone tries to take that from me.
Good-bye for now, son.
