Dear Russ,
I so deeply wish I knew where you were right now man, 'cause the boys and I just want to see you again, even if it's only for a moment. That's the problem though, aint it? We always wait until it's too late to actually care. Lately, I keep finding myself staring at your picture trying to fathom the saddening fact that your gone. I feel like a such a hypocrite these days, constantly writing about how I understand that life is too short and we must take advantage of these brief breaths we our given. But it was only a couple days ago, the morning when I found you had passed, when I realized that I have been nothing but a liar with a pen, hiding behind my words from my deepest fears. I would always sit there writing about how much every single one of my loved ones means to me, and how I cherish every single second I spend with them... and now I'm just crying over the fact that we haven't spoken since last summer, and how we won't be able to again in this lifetime.
You remember that day man, the last time we spoke, when my grandpa took us to play 18 at Deerfield? That course ate you up so badly that day HaHa!... But I would give anything to go back and watch you duff the shit outta the ball on that first tee again. Man, that was some funny shit. When I first heard the news, I must admit it didn't hit me right away, but once the days began to move forward, I felt like I was still waking up in my basement and getting that call... it felt as if I was being electrocuted by still-silence over and over again. I have come to conclusion that I simply did not have any words to explain how I felt at the time. I think that's why it took me so long to write something about you...
I'm laughing to myself in the library right now, because I know your out there, or up there somewhere, just laughing your balls off at me because I'm still giving this whole writer/poet thing a shot. It sounds silly, but I'm gonna miss the way you would always bust my balls about being an emotional poet. I swear, all those little jabs you took at me are coming back to bite you in your ass, 'cause now I'm writing about you bro, about how much I love and miss you already. I'ts simply not fair, and if I'm being honest, I don't really know if I'm doing okay with it all. I put on this smile and try to only remember the good times, but if I'm being like you, that honest straight up man you always taught us to be, I'm here to tell you that I feel weak without you, and it's going to take us all some time to understand and accept that your gone. But I just want you to know, we'll all be okay...eventually. They say "time heals all", right?
You know me Russ, I was never one to read the newspaper or watch the news, yet lately I find myself doing both. But I don't know why I'm continuing to do so, because I end up just getting so pissed off at the media. You would hate it man... it would make you sick, they just keep talking about drugs, and how our generation is so easily influenced by big names in Hollywood and shit... I don't even understand what they are saying, or attempting to prove by this. The fucking media acts like they care, yet in reality all they want is another story. I sit there and listen to all their nonsense and how they keep talking about how successful in school you were, and how much potential you had and blah blah blah... Those are wonderful things and all, but where's the true meaning in their story though, you know... like the little things that create an actual purpose?
I understand that they know your favorite football team (who doesn't?), but I'm just wondering if they know your favorite poker hand, or that your Full Tilt username was Blumkin Jr. (so inappropriate lol), your favorite soccer team (I still don't know how the hell you even got into soccer?), your favorite baseball team, or how much you sucked balls at fantasy (HaHa, sorry I had to!). But most of all, do they even know the fact that every single time you walked into a room, your heart and smile gave off such a calming and happy energy that none of us will ever be able to describe? Why aren't these things part of their story? These are only a few of the little things that made you... you, and I'm just wondering why they don't know about them. But I'ts because they don't know you like we did. Hell, there's even a couple of your boys that know you more than I do... and I cannot even begin to explain how much I wish I could have the chance to learn even more about you, as much as they know.
There I go again, wishing and wishing. I have to stop doing this, because these wishes, they simply cannot come true. People keep telling me that they hope we all have learned a lesson from this, but the lesson in which their speaking of means nothing to me. The only thing I have learned from this is the fact that life really is too short, and it is foolish to not take advantage of every waking chance you get to spend with someone you love. I hope everyone has learned the same thing from all of this that I have.
Before I end this, I just wanted to tell you about something... A couple days ago, the boys and I took a trip to Seneca in attempts to tear up the poker room, but you of all people know how that ends up in the end. On our way there, I thought about the first time you dragged me to Turning Stone to play in a cash game (I was so nervous and I blew a cool hundo' within minutes. I remember you laughing at me and telling me to buy back in and play my game) On the drive, I found myself in silence for minutes at a time just thinking about you, and every memory we have shared together. I'll always remember those all nighters' when we would eat pizza and drink energy drinks, grindin' it out in online poker. I'll always remember every game we ever watched together, every time you ever busted my balls, because we all know much too well the smart-ass you always were and always will be, wherever you are now. And I'll always remember that smile... the one that always lit up the room and had the ability to change a persons mood from bad to good in just seconds.
But it's not always about remembering, it's sometimes more about the things you just cannot forget. When we were younger, back in those days when we were still considered athletes, your dad would always call you "Bonds", and I'll just never forget that. It actually makes me laugh today, 'cause you and I both know you were never going to hit one over that fence... we were just so little, on a field so big. But today, although we have grown to be much larger than those cleats we once wore, this field of life remains much larger than us, and always will. You know me bro, I aint one to believe in certain things, but the hard truth is, there are powers out there that are far greater than the grips of our hands, and this bat I'm swingin' with right now is hitting nothing, whiffing nothing but wind... but don't worry, I feel our memories in the air. I guess what I'm saying is, wherever you are man, hit one out of the fuckin' park for me- for us, and just run around the bases smiling over and over again... because one day, one day man, we'll all be waiting there at home-plate for ya'... a moment when we can all be together again. Can you do that for me Bonds?
Although it deeply saddens me that your gone, and this stupid little letter might not ever even reach you, I just want you to know that I love you bro... we all love you so much. I'd be dammed before I ever claimed that there is a positive side to any of this, but in the grand scheme of things, I hope you know that at the end of the day, I think you may have just opened up many eyes to what it means to live again...to love again. And though it's extremely difficult to admit, I believe everything that has happened has served a greater purpose, and I know that your gone, but I want you to know that I truly think you have saved many more lives than you'll ever know...and for that, I guess the only thing left to say is...
Thank you, and we love you so damn much.
-The Omaha Kid
PS: Do you remember that time when we were playing a quick nine out at Wild Wood Country Club, and you whipped your sand wedge into the woods? Also, do you remember that club being a ladies wedge by any chance? HaHa! In the next life, or whenever I get to freakin' see you again, I want you to answer something for me... Why the hell did you even have a woman's club in your bag that day? Lol, I've been trying to figure it out for years man.
No comments:
Post a Comment