An Attitude Of Gratitude

att

 

A person never stands as tall as when they bend over to help a child..

Megan Laurine Jaret

2/26/90-10/23/91

One of the unfortunate truths in life is that sometimes it takes the worst things happening to us to bring out the best of our humanity. However that’s no reason not to shine a light on the profound acts of kindness we as humans share with each other in times of catastrophic stress regardless of what motivated those acts. Every year on the anniversary of our daughter Megan’s death we commemorate her life in some way. Maureen and I both fear this date because it’s an unwanted anniversary, the loss of our baby girl. The immense pain we endured and the profound sense of loss haunts us to this day. So each year we share parts of our journey down into the depths of every parents worst nightmare in an attempt to express the need of organ donations as well as the need for all of us to have compassion without condition. This date also reminds of the best humanity has to offer, the selfless and compassionate acts of family, friends, and even strangers. Our story this year is our attitude of gratitude. It as not just an honor to a brave young child, her fight for life and the tragic fight of a mother and father, but it’s an opportunity to focus not on our loss but of our gain for having had Megan in our lives, and to have had a group of heroes alongside us the entire time. We have had the opportunity to share with so many special people throughout the ordeal. We will shine a bright light of gratitude unto all the people, all the heroes in our story who worked so tirelessly and selflessly to assist us through our struggle to keep our daughter alive and to help us both hang on to a thread of sanity.

We had just relocated from Manhattan to Belleville New Jersey searching out a nice community to raise our family. We were strangers in town with a newborn baby girl who would soon make us unwilling celebrities in the New Jersey town. It started with a visit to a pediatrician and ended in a tragedy, but as is usually the case if you follow the journey and not the destination you reveal the true heart of the story. During that often tumultuous journey there are a number of local heroes we want to recognize and have them be the focus of our anniversary this year. So here’s to our homegrown heroes….

The first star of the journey is the late Doctor Milton Prystowsky, a well known pediatric cardiologist. Dr. Milton sat with Megan for over an hour, the first time he met her, monitoring her heart rhythms because he believed he saw something wrong. He was the first one to listen to what we said about Megan’s discomfort. A very welcome comforting voice of reason and compassion after a slew of doctors who totally discounted our claims as what they perceived as first time parents over-reacting to a normal child’s illness. Most chalked it up to a new mother ranting and a new father whose only real medical knowledge was from what he watched on Marcus Welby or Medical Center. But she was much sicker than just an average childhood illness. With our instincts as parents we knew something wasn’t right and it was Dr. Milton who listened intently to all we said and incorporated our observations in his assessment. Megan suffered from myocarditis (an enlarged heart) and she quickly became a favorite patient of his. He would later spend hours saving her life after she had a stroke and cardiac arrest and even comforted us throughout the pregnancy and subsequent birth of our second beautiful daughter Kelllie. Unfortunately Dr. Milton has passed but he is forever woven deeply into our hearts and we are eternally grateful for all he did.

 

Having found out how ill Megan really was another reality was about to rock our world. Even with decent medical coverage the medicines, the therapy, the time off from work, and the costs of frequent doctor visits spiraled out of control. After a cardiac arrest and stroke we were informed Megan now had cardiomyopathy, a condition which is irreversible. Megan needed a heart transplant and we would need to be ready to at the ring of a phone call to rush to the hospital. A local business person, Scott Harvin who was busy growing his own printing business listened to our story and decided something must be done to help. Along with his childhood friend Chris Otazo Scott began a local fundraising campaign to assist us not only with our bills, which had already placed extra burdens but with emotional support. In the beginning Megan was on seven medications given eight times a day, so many intervals it allowed for little sleep if any as well as frequent trips to hospitals. Scott and Chris started the Megan Jaret Heart Fund which grew exponentially as more members of our town heard of our plight.

Before telling of the story of how the fund grew from a grass roots community effort to Megan becoming the 1991 New Jersey Police Benevolent Associations poster child it’s important to go back to two EMT’s who responded to a Sunday morning 911 call on October 7th. Megan’s condition was compromised further when she had a heart attack that morning which we heard in chilling real time over her baby monitor. A frantic call to 911 brought a rapid response from the Belleville Firemen Mark Rossi and Mike De Andrea, who reacted swiftly and decisively first stabilizing Megan then sweeping her into the ambulance and nearly flying away down the road. Maureen and I jumped in our own car and drove with great purpose to the hospital only to find the ambulance hadn’t yet arrived. Panic stricken and confused we were quickly triaged to a private room where we waited an grueling 45 minutes before finding out Megan had arrived. We would later find out that the firemen had stopped along the way to administer emergency cardiac stimulation. There is not a single doubt in my mind the two of them could think of little else then their own children while saving Megan’s life. Of course the pair of heroes would later humbly tell us they we only doing their job but they gave true meaning to above and beyond with their desperate efforts. No matter how big and strong you may be no one really wants a helpless child to be part of their job. So a special thank you to Mark and Mike.

Leading up to that time our needs both emotionally and financially grew significantly regardless of having the medical coverage Maureen had to leave her job and stay with Megan full time and I picked up extra jobs in restaurants to help make ends meet. The fund that Scott and Chris had started became another focal point of our existence. Belleville Police Lieutenant Jack Mailot had read the story of Megan in the Belleville Times and contacted Scott. He told him that he wants to be apart of the fund – he was a cancer survivor and there was just something special about Meg. He and Tony Weiners, also from the Belleville PD helped to heightened the awareness and assistance and suddenly a huge community that had no idea who we were had started rallying around this young couple with a catastrophically ill infant. Larry Rosenthal, a highly successful businessperson, and his associate Barbara found out about our plight and joined in. Larry became a huge supporter for us when he and Barbara focused on Maureen and I because they realized the caretakers so often go overlooked, especially when the one being cared for is such a beautiful and helpless child. It blew us away, and I admit to many hours of tears of gratefulness in their reminding us that we were human, that we were important, and that everyone cared for all three of us.

The need for Megan’s heart transplant also opened us up to an almost sub culture of people who called themselves “The Transplant Community”. There is a slew of people here who helped us emotionally including Rhonda Roby and Peggy Dreker (who’s own beautiful child had a liver transplant) from TRIOS (Transplant Recipient International Organization) and UNOS (United Network for Organ Sharing). Along with the transplant community was our circle of friends. Our “Bridgebrook” family, Kathy and Bob Gandolfi, Mary Bay Pickett, Michael DiFrabizio, Lisa Grabas, and a host of others who were more than merely neighbors shared in our plight.

Megan got her transplant at Columbia Presbyterian, and her doctors were nothing short of amazing!! Drs Robert Michler, and Dr Linda Addonizio, who cried with us when Meg died never made us feel that our daughter was not their priority! The entire staff of Columbia most especially the extremely caring compassionate and professional nursing staff who always helped interpret what the doctors told us as well as just making us feel as if they were our family.

And most importantly our families, played a major role in helping us to not only get through all the insanity but to help us keep it!!! Maureen’s sister Kathleen and her cousin Laurine, and her best friend Diane, who helped to hold her up and give her the courage to get up and fight another day! Their love and support are still immeasurable today! Her brothers, Michael and Sean, both standing next to us helping to hold us up! Maureen’s Aunt and uncle Mel and Bill, who were by our side when we received the devastating news that Meg needed a transplant, they took our other family member, our little sheltie Kasey Jonze and gave him a nice home while we rearranged our lives. When we had to make a trek to Philadelphia to St.Christopher’s Hospital, my brother Randy and his wife Joyce followed behind us, they virtually never left our side, and helped us settle in our new temporary home while attempting to take our minds off of our peril as best they could. Philadelphia was extremely tough on Maureen who set up home in a chair beside Megan where she watched over her 24/7. After the first month I had to return to work where two of my best friends and co-workers, Wayne Lyons and Vicky Zonana kept me together until I could get back to Philly on the weekends. The two of them along with “Little David” another coworker who since passed away were my rocks and stood alongside me from the beginning of our ordeal. A frienship just as strong today as it was back then despite being miles apart.

Then there is our parents, who must have been going through their own agony watching there children suffering and in so much pain over their beautiful granddaughter enduring more pain in her short life, then they did in their lifetime!

We know that there are people all along the way that we did not mention, but it does not mean that their impact is any less for us! We are eternally grateful to all that had come to the aid of our little family and our beautiful little Megan!

Peace, Love, and Thank You

 

 

 

 

 

 

Last Christmas

last

 

What if last Christmas

Was your last Christmas

Would it change the way live

What if last summer

Was your last summer

Would it change the way you love

What if last week

Was your last week

Would it change the way you laugh

 

Would it change your today

Would it change you’re here and now

Any today

Can be your last day

Your last tomorrow

Your last yesterday

Your last Christmas

Your last breath

Stand tall

Free yourself from the negatives

Let go of grudges

Grudges become exponentially heavier

To carry a grudge

Is detrimental to your posture

Let them go

Feel the freedom of peace

Enjoy life
Don’t live love or laugh alone

Brave each day with a smile

Wear it and share it

For anger is an infectious disease

Anger destroys

Don’t sacrifice the good in your heart

For empty words of anger

Feel the freedom of peace

Don’t wait until its yesterday

Yesterdays gather rust

Or get stored in the attic

Change the way you laugh

The way you love

The way you live

Today

Don’t live behind yourself

Live with love

Live with laughter

Live with life

But live

PEACE

 

 

 

 

Love Is A Drug

drug

 

 

Many people believe they want to find themselves, to see who they really are but the truth is most of us are scared to find out who we are. So we cling on to someone else’s life in an attempt to validate our own lives. But often times when we peek through another persons curtain we peer into a mirror of our own souls and it frightens us. Yet we fall in love.

We embrace love then live inside of each others paranoia’s. That’s what creates our awkward moments of tension leading to breaks ups that often require some numbing. We purchase moods and concepts from the store or the street to help us understand . A bottle of memory loss, a fifth of courage, a vial of self confidence, or a shot of give up. But in our search for self medication there is one drug none of us can ever get enough of, the most addictive and hard to shake drug in the world. That drug is love…..

 

 

Love is our drug of choice

One bite from the fruit of desire

And We are slaves to sex forever

 

The gleam of my switchblade

Tenderly slices into her flesh

Anticipation rises

Swelling in my throat

Dry as autumn leaves

A moment of tension

Ecstasy beckons

Awaiting release

Bound by her passion

Chained to her charm

My love coursing toward her

Her gentle touch coursing through my veins

Explodes from my core

Pouring into her body

I pledge my love eternal

Forever to remain as one

Wrapped in silken chains

She grasps my desires

Clings tightly

Absorbed inside each other

We smile

Not because love feels so good

But because no love feels horrible

 

Time waits not for love

I ache with crushed dreams

Tortured by ghosts of her lovers

She in bed cuddling my humiliation

My heart falls aborted

Dangling in front of me

Tethered to my failure

A dispassionate ending

Leaving me desperate

 

 

Another wink, another wiggle

The slightest hint of attention

Brings me back for more

Like a strung out lover

I knock on her cellar window

Begging for more

Because like everyone else

I’m addicted to love

Love is a narcotic

Prescription of ecstasy

And when love walks away

I crave it anew

Love is a drug

I am it’s junkie

 

 

 

Forgotten How To Care

abandoned_playground_by_questa_durron

 

 

Where do the unfortunate children live?

Charred basements

Broken windows

Hinge less doors

Cracked walls

Torn up floors

Abandoned palaces

Way beyond our gated paradises

Far away so we won’t have to see

 

 

 

 

Where do the unfortunate children play?

Septic swamplands

Dead grass

Scorched earth

Forgotten swing sets

Junkyard Hell

Running on decay

Chewing paint chips

Shredded promise soufflé

Far away

Not near you

Hidden from our guarded suburbs

 

 

If we sweep them under the rug will they still exist?

Can we hide them away from where the moneys made?

Shield us from their tears

Remove their squalor from our sight

Pretend they’re not still here

Hide away their despair

Where we never have to see them

Where we no longer look

Yet still hear them cry

Without listening

Without asking why

 

 

Why should I have to share what’s mine just because their lazy

Its not my problem not my fault

Let someone else foot their bills

Let someone else buy their shoes

Put food into their bellies

Shelter them from storms

The big game is on TV tonight

My fridge is full of excuses

I have no time to hear the plight

Let me watch the latest shows

Not some documentary to remind me I once cared

At a time when I believed in caring

 

 

 

 

Anyway that was a long time ago

I was filled with lofty ideals then

In youth I believed in so much

It seemed we all had a dream

A vapor really

Breath on glass

Bold and large

Mirror dreams

Wiped away with self ambition

Dissipated with fumes of self indulgences

Into nothing

Compassion disappeared from my looking glass

Leaving a reflection of myself

The face of one who forgot

A face of shame

No salary can buy it away

No ambition can veil the self contempt

No status symbol can wash away regret

Of forgetting how to care

Shame on those of us who abandon our hidden neighbors

So wrapped up in ourselves

That we have forgotten how to care

Remember the days

we all promised

To lend hand

To wipe their tears

 

 

Peace

 

Anecdote (p.I)

anecdote I

 

Anecdote

(Inspired by the fabulous Welch poet Mr. Zimmerman chose as a namesake)

 

 

In the end we are all just ghosts in the lives of those we encounter that share an importance to our own lives. Life is not a straight line or a cycle but an elaborately moving thread that touches millions of other threads in the ultimate fabric of the universe. Sometimes certain threads become entwined for long periods of time and become part of someone else’s patch of cloth, someone else’s story. Once we are gone our names begin to echo off the canyons of life in search of a legacy. We may never find it here on Mother Earth.

 

 

We are but anecdotes in each others lives

 

The moon smiled as it whispered her name

The wind screamed I love you to the sky

Perhaps a bit too loud

The sun clasped tight the latch of day

Sealing in the evening’s sweet song

Perhaps a bit too short

Gracefully she strutted across my life

I  behind in a cascade of stardust

An anecdote in the wake of her stride

 

 

 

Bound in passions of leather and lace

Squealing the promise of surrender

Bodies wrapped in tenuous pleasure

Tightly clung to our mutual destiny

She held me tight in the eyes of her world

Imprisoned was my weakened soul

Counting each breath in hope eternal

Feeling each beat of her rapturous heart

Knowing my devotions would one day become

A mere anecdote of her days gone by

A short chapter in her story of life

 

 

 

 

 

I peered deeply into my paranoia

The tide waning to an uncertain sea

Together we had floated o’er the oceans

Treacherous waves rising before the storm

Time was at hand

Exchanging glances to reveal our fears

She pulled my face tenderly to her breast

Comforted on her cloud of  compassion

We had entered the phase of our final countdown

We hastily reminisced with the ghosts of the fates

Solitude will be a continuous torture

Who were we, who was I, who am I now?

The years seemed deep and long of tragedies

Alone I face the story’s close

The Lone Protagonist

In the end merely an anecdote

To everyone I’ve ever known

 

THE ARTIST

artist

 

 

Standing naked before you

Vulnerable and afraid

Anguish in word

Trepidation in song

Emotionally blurred

Trembling brushes

Their soul on display

Frightened waits the artist

Awaiting applause

Fearing the ridicule

But our art is our cause

 

Using potions and lotions to mask our emotions

As we parade our wounds and our scars

For your gratification we suffer frustration

Then go drowning our sorrows at bars

 

A cavalcade of mental lacerations

Through the center of town

See the procession of distressed musings

The Splendor of our pain

In plain sight for all to enjoy

We’ll allow you a glimpse

Into a world of macabre

Struggles we faced

With love we tussle and toil

A labor of love

To help shed a light

Bring radiance to the obscure

Lucidity in an enigmatic abstract

Luster from our souls

Wounded yet strong

Brighten the path of our pith

Allowing you to see into our thoughts

 

To see yourself

Art is a mirror

A reflection of you

Distortedly real

In my mind

Harshly we judge ourselves so the judges won’t give us new pains

We carry on

Enduring torture in living

Tempered by numbness

To help show the way

The teardrops flow at the strum of a string

Someone singing a song of despair

Painful pictures of reality

Or sweet memories to canvass

In word, in song, in pictures

We see life and report

Groaning from lessons so hard

Disparagement festers in my heart

Flowing through my fingertips

Connected to my mind

Creative thought

Born of aches

Shared internal

Shaken from sneers

Fragile

Ready to bare the soul

Reality is sometimes hard

Not always kind

If you’re sighted yet still remain blind

We let you see inside with our creative wings in flight

We struggle in our darkness so you can see the light

Artists…..show them love but

Handle with care

 

Unfinished Yesyerday

unfinished

 

Tomorrow

One day early

Yesterday

One day late

Today is the day

Make something happen

Celebrate

 

Don’t worry about tomorrow

It knows the way

Don’t live in your history

It never stays

Yesterday is gone

Today will be great

Celebrate

 

Tomorrow is a future someday way back when

Stay inside the now

Today

Before it becomes yesterday

And re-occurs

As it always does

Not gonna fill my closet with regrets

Or store broken dreams hidden in my attic

Don’t wanna end up with a pile of would have beens

And mountains of wish I hads

Too steep to climb

Woulda coulda shoulda

Believe me I have scads

Wandering aimlessly

Procrastinated into complacency

Graciously waiting patiently

For hope to fill the vacancy

Now all the piles are swept away

And all I have left today

Is too many unfinished yesterdays

History is important

But the most important history

Is the history you make today

 

River Of Love

river

 

Reveling we glistened

Sensual luminescence

Kissed by the sun

Hedonic happy days

Owned by the sunrise

Romantic evenings

Belonged to the moon

On the River of Love

Fires of devotion

Rose above the bank

Celebrating a love

Blazing eternal

An epoch ago

Owners of the night

We dreamt by day

So many sunsets

Passed over our eyes

Searing our hearts

Combusting our souls

Swimming impassioned

Smoldering erotic across

The Burning River of Love

 

Two bodies entwined

In ancient ritual

Embracing naked

Waxing euphoric

Aroused by desire

Charred from passion

Rapturously content

Until we stumbled

In the wake of a flood

Joined by our ghosts

From our own shadows

Swept up in the current

Pulled apart

Three times under

Drowning in the River of Love

Separated we travel

Gradient in thought

Split across two rapids

Distant cascading rumblings

Unable to negotiate

An alliance of paradise

Our pact of unity

Ruptured

Forming new rivulets

Searching new ground

Dew drops from our eyes

Glistened in the morning reeds

Pieces of our hearts

Floating our own ways

Down The River of Love

 

Sometimes that’s just the way the river flows

Love follows the path of least resistance

Though at times it seems hard maneuvering

Rolling and dancing changing downstream

The river it always holds the promise of love

Drink in the river and sing its song of love

Jump in the water and let it take you along

Though its waters sometimes run treacherous

And the river charts the course of its choosing

Its always worth the ride

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Apathetic Winds Of Freedom

My Props to the Beat poets who changed our perceptions and ushered in an era of open mindedness

People fighting over flags

Killing for biscuits

that’s nowhere

Why should I care

I know what happens when you resist

Get caught in the wind of hate

Blow away

Not me

I just don’t care

I’m not chasing no windmills

Not for tulips anyway

Not gonna cut off my ear

Just to hear some music

Holding on to my sanity

Don’t need help from no stranger

I’m just gonna ride in the wind

The wind of apathy

For free

Bag your own groceries dude

I don’t work for you

I’m not your rag time man

I’m not taking no stand

I won’t vote for you

Ill be late for the debate

You can be the vice president

Makes you important I don’t care

My bag if full of unclean air

I am I said

Pathetically apathetic

So ill never drive a Lexus

Big deal

Never float on a luxury hotel

So what

Ill walk the mile if need be

In my own damn moccasins

Rather than take biscuit crumbs

From the tables of affluence

I don’t want their spare change

Maybe I’ll just go wind sailing

Riding high in the sky

Riding my apathy

To nowhere in particular

You think you’re free?

You’re a marionette

Don’t get choked by the strings

There ain’t Blue Fairy

No island of pleasure

Freedom is hazardous people

You really have to want it

You can’t keep it in your garage

You can’t hold it for yourself

You have to let it go

Set it free in the winds

The winds of apathy

 

 

 

 

 

Broken

break

 

 

 

 

Woke up confused

Eyes shut open wide

Remembered a dream

Love so deep inside

Passion in the air

Undiluted truth

Silk and satin sheets

Unbridled youth

Was it a fantasy

Cosmic deception

Maybe just a wish

Looking for perception

Heaven?

Hell?

Hard to tell

But we were

What we were

Riding supernova waves

High on living life

Sleeping in the sun

Rising up at noon

Loving in the dark

Shadows in the night

Crying in the stars

Laughing at the moon

Until one day

My smile

Got up and left

Leaving a void in its wake

Much too soon

 

Pain

Tattooed on my soul

Dismay

A scar in my heart

Anger

In tears that I cry

Despair

From falling apart

Desolation

Promised sorrow

Bleakness

My one true belief

Hurt

Left in the wake

Death

Omnipresent relief

 

SON

son

 

He’s a man

But not just any man

A great man forged in flame

Pushed to the ground

Forced to rise up again

Despite the hardship of his name

The sins of the mother

Upon his shoulders

Burdens he has had his share

The sins of the father

Around his neck

So much weight he has had to bear

 

I have wandered the sewers

Scaled mountains of shame

I swam in the river of sin

Despite all my misgivings

He came back to my door

A privilege to let him come in

Never once did he judge me

Showed me nothing but love

Listened intently to all I spoke of

We stood together united

Father and son

Taught each other the value of love

 

So proud now I stand

Praising the man

The man who like an eagle has soared

Not merely a son

The man has become

So much more than the man he adored

 

Great men are forged in fire

It is the privilege of lesser men to light the flame

PEACE