sandmansister: (Scribble)
The nightmares stopped years and years ago, but there's still a hole in my heart that will never heal. Sure, other friends have come into my life and Grinch-like made my heart bigger so I could love them all, but that doesn't change the fact that my friend Scott is gone.

Can't believe it's been 20 years.

Don't know how I'm going to get through typing this post, but I have to. I don't know if anyone besides [livejournal.com profile] buffalobills and I remember, but I feel like someone has to mark the time, to somehow immortalize someone taken from us all too soon.

I know [livejournal.com profile] apocalypticbob can relate.

Loss is part of life. This isn't news. I have lost loved ones due to age, illness, accident, and suicide. They're all tragic—every one. I mourn. I grieve. But there's a pathology to losing someone to murder that makes healing exponentially different (if not outright impossible).

I've posted about him before, my sweet Scooter, trying to capture the bits and pieces of time when our lives intersected. All my photo albums are in storage; I'm hoping Jacque can track down a picture. I have an urgent need to see his face again.

I don't know if it was because I was just 19 when we met—such a drastic time of change in my life—that helped that time of my life make such an indelible mark on me. I was just starting to figure out who I wanted to be. No, that's not quite right. I was starting to see what was actually possible. Scott—my Scooter—was a big part of that. Hell, everyone that lived upstairs in those apartments on Oram was a big part of that, and I'm eternally grateful. Paula, Stace, Jennifer, Danny, Scott and Martha, Mark, and (heaven help me) Shawn.

Anytime I'm driving late at night in Dallas, I almost instantly feel like I'm back then/there—crazy nights when my blood boiled and I couldn't stay inside;I had to drive or die (or so it seemed). I just needed an open sun roof, air on my face and something good on the radio. Under the sodium glow of the street lights I could breathe again, like a shark needs to keep moving to stay alive.

I've mostly forced myself out of the habit of looking for him when I go to a show. It wasn't as extreme as Shawn where I'd miss him badly enough and he'd manifest, but I'd wonder how Scooter was doing and within a brief span of time I'd run into him at Clearview or Trees. It's a sucker punch to the solar plexus every time I realize I'll never see him again, all because some dumb ass dropped a couple hits of acid, freaked out and shot my friend thirteen times.

Aaaaand here we go. It's still so fresh in so many ways. I will never be completely out of tears to cry over this. They're not as debilitating or frequent, but they still flow easily.

Twenty years. It hardly seems possible.

I love and miss you still, Scooter. I haven't forgotten you. I never will.

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~

JULY 13, 1991

Grandson of ex-Baylor president among 2 fatally shot

Author: From Staff and Wire Reports

Edition: HOME FINAL
Section: NEWS
Page: 31A

Article Text:

A grandson of former Baylor University president Abner McCall was one of two Dallas residents shot to death early Friday in an attack at a San Marcos apartment complex.

A third person was critically wounded.

The dead were identified as Andrea L. Reynolds and Richard Scott Martin, both 20. Mr. Martin, a Baylor University journalism student, was Dr. McCall's grandson. He was shot 13 times with a .22-caliber semiautomatic rifle, authorities said. "It's just a young life cut short by a terrible tragedy,' said Nelwyn Reagan, a friend of the McCall family's who was answering the telephone Friday night at their Waco home.

A 23-year-old Southwest Texas State University student was arrested in connection with the shooting spree.

Todd Carman, a senior psychology major from Spring, was charged with capital murder and attempted murder. Justice of the Peace Macel Sullivan set bail at $50,000 on the attempted murder charge and denied bail! on the capital charge.

Travis County Medical Examiner Roberto Bayardo said Mr. Martin was shot 13 times and Ms. Reynolds three times.

The wounded woman, Shannon L. Roeder, 21, of San Marcos, was in guarded condition in the intensive care unit of Central Texas Medical Center, a hospital spokesman said.

Ms. Roeder, a junior at Southwest Texas State, underwent surgery for a neck wound.

Police said all three victims were found in the living room of an apartment that Mr. Carman and Ms. Roeder shared.

Mr. Carman remained jailed as authorities tried to determine the motive for the shootings.

Mr. Martin's mother last saw him Thursday night, when he dined with her and Dr. McCall in Waco. He left for San Marcos about 9 p.m. "All we know is he got to San Marcos about midnight,' Ms. Reagan said.

Ms. Reagan said police knew little about the shooting. Mr. Martin and Ms. Reynolds apparently were visiting San Marcos because she was considering enrolling in college there, Ms. Reagan said. -

1991 Copyright The Dallas Morning News Company
Record Number: 07*13*DAL1208371
sandmansister: (Scribble)
The nightmares stopped years and years ago, but there's still a hole in my heart that will never heal. Sure, other friends have come into my life and Grinch-like made my heart bigger so I could love them all, but that doesn't change the fact that my friend Scott is gone.

Can't believe it's been 20 years.

Don't know how I'm going to get through typing this post, but I have to. I don't know if anyone besides [livejournal.com profile] buffalobills and I remember, but I feel like someone has to mark the time, to somehow immortalize someone taken from us all too soon.

I know [livejournal.com profile] apocalypticbob can relate.

Loss is part of life. This isn't news. I have lost loved ones due to age, illness, accident, and suicide. They're all tragic—every one. I mourn. I grieve. But there's a pathology to losing someone to murder that makes healing exponentially different (if not outright impossible).

I've posted about him before, my sweet Scooter, trying to capture the bits and pieces of time when our lives intersected. All my photo albums are in storage; I'm hoping Jacque can track down a picture. I have an urgent need to see his face again.

I don't know if it was because I was just 19 when we met—such a drastic time of change in my life—that helped that time of my life make such an indelible mark on me. I was just starting to figure out who I wanted to be. No, that's not quite right. I was starting to see what was actually possible. Scott—my Scooter—was a big part of that. Hell, everyone that lived upstairs in those apartments on Oram was a big part of that, and I'm eternally grateful. Paula, Stace, Jennifer, Danny, Scott and Martha, Mark, and (heaven help me) Shawn.

Anytime I'm driving late at night in Dallas, I almost instantly feel like I'm back then/there—crazy nights when my blood boiled and I couldn't stay inside;I had to drive or die (or so it seemed). I just needed an open sun roof, air on my face and something good on the radio. Under the sodium glow of the street lights I could breathe again, like a shark needs to keep moving to stay alive.

I've mostly forced myself out of the habit of looking for him when I go to a show. It wasn't as extreme as Shawn where I'd miss him badly enough and he'd manifest, but I'd wonder how Scooter was doing and within a brief span of time I'd run into him at Clearview or Trees. It's a sucker punch to the solar plexus every time I realize I'll never see him again, all because some dumb ass dropped a couple hits of acid, freaked out and shot my friend thirteen times.

Aaaaand here we go. It's still so fresh in so many ways. I will never be completely out of tears to cry over this. They're not as debilitating or frequent, but they still flow easily.

Twenty years. It hardly seems possible.

I love and miss you still, Scooter. I haven't forgotten you. I never will.

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~

JULY 13, 1991

Grandson of ex-Baylor president among 2 fatally shot

Author: From Staff and Wire Reports

Edition: HOME FINAL
Section: NEWS
Page: 31A

Article Text:

A grandson of former Baylor University president Abner McCall was one of two Dallas residents shot to death early Friday in an attack at a San Marcos apartment complex.

A third person was critically wounded.

The dead were identified as Andrea L. Reynolds and Richard Scott Martin, both 20. Mr. Martin, a Baylor University journalism student, was Dr. McCall's grandson. He was shot 13 times with a .22-caliber semiautomatic rifle, authorities said. "It's just a young life cut short by a terrible tragedy,' said Nelwyn Reagan, a friend of the McCall family's who was answering the telephone Friday night at their Waco home.

A 23-year-old Southwest Texas State University student was arrested in connection with the shooting spree.

Todd Carman, a senior psychology major from Spring, was charged with capital murder and attempted murder. Justice of the Peace Macel Sullivan set bail at $50,000 on the attempted murder charge and denied bail! on the capital charge.

Travis County Medical Examiner Roberto Bayardo said Mr. Martin was shot 13 times and Ms. Reynolds three times.

The wounded woman, Shannon L. Roeder, 21, of San Marcos, was in guarded condition in the intensive care unit of Central Texas Medical Center, a hospital spokesman said.

Ms. Roeder, a junior at Southwest Texas State, underwent surgery for a neck wound.

Police said all three victims were found in the living room of an apartment that Mr. Carman and Ms. Roeder shared.

Mr. Carman remained jailed as authorities tried to determine the motive for the shootings.

Mr. Martin's mother last saw him Thursday night, when he dined with her and Dr. McCall in Waco. He left for San Marcos about 9 p.m. "All we know is he got to San Marcos about midnight,' Ms. Reagan said.

Ms. Reagan said police knew little about the shooting. Mr. Martin and Ms. Reynolds apparently were visiting San Marcos because she was considering enrolling in college there, Ms. Reagan said. -

1991 Copyright The Dallas Morning News Company
Record Number: 07*13*DAL1208371
sandmansister: (Scribble)
The nightmares stopped years and years ago, but there's still a hole in my heart that will never heal. Sure, other friends have come into my life and Grinch-like made my heart bigger so I could love them all, but that doesn't change the fact that my friend Scott is gone.

Can't believe it's been 20 years.

Don't know how I'm going to get through typing this post, but I have to. I don't know if anyone besides [livejournal.com profile] buffalobills and I remember, but I feel like someone has to mark the time, to somehow immortalize someone taken from us all too soon.

I know [livejournal.com profile] apocalypticbob can relate.

Loss is part of life. This isn't news. I have lost loved ones due to age, illness, accident, and suicide. They're all tragic—every one. I mourn. I grieve. But there's a pathology to losing someone to murder that makes healing exponentially different (if not outright impossible).

I've posted about him before, my sweet Scooter, trying to capture the bits and pieces of time when our lives intersected. All my photo albums are in storage; I'm hoping Jacque can track down a picture. I have an urgent need to see his face again.

I don't know if it was because I was just 19 when we met—such a drastic time of change in my life—that helped that time of my life make such an indelible mark on me. I was just starting to figure out who I wanted to be. No, that's not quite right. I was starting to see what was actually possible. Scott—my Scooter—was a big part of that. Hell, everyone that lived upstairs in those apartments on Oram was a big part of that, and I'm eternally grateful. Paula, Stace, Jennifer, Danny, Scott and Martha, Mark, and (heaven help me) Shawn.

Anytime I'm driving late at night in Dallas, I almost instantly feel like I'm back then/there—crazy nights when my blood boiled and I couldn't stay inside;I had to drive or die (or so it seemed). I just needed an open sun roof, air on my face and something good on the radio. Under the sodium glow of the street lights I could breathe again, like a shark needs to keep moving to stay alive.

I've mostly forced myself out of the habit of looking for him when I go to a show. It wasn't as extreme as Shawn where I'd miss him badly enough and he'd manifest, but I'd wonder how Scooter was doing and within a brief span of time I'd run into him at Clearview or Trees. It's a sucker punch to the solar plexus every time I realize I'll never see him again, all because some dumb ass dropped a couple hits of acid, freaked out and shot my friend thirteen times.

Aaaaand here we go. It's still so fresh in so many ways. I will never be completely out of tears to cry over this. They're not as debilitating or frequent, but they still flow easily.

Twenty years. It hardly seems possible.

I love and miss you still, Scooter. I haven't forgotten you. I never will.

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~

JULY 13, 1991

Grandson of ex-Baylor president among 2 fatally shot

Author: From Staff and Wire Reports

Edition: HOME FINAL
Section: NEWS
Page: 31A

Article Text:

A grandson of former Baylor University president Abner McCall was one of two Dallas residents shot to death early Friday in an attack at a San Marcos apartment complex.

A third person was critically wounded.

The dead were identified as Andrea L. Reynolds and Richard Scott Martin, both 20. Mr. Martin, a Baylor University journalism student, was Dr. McCall's grandson. He was shot 13 times with a .22-caliber semiautomatic rifle, authorities said. "It's just a young life cut short by a terrible tragedy,' said Nelwyn Reagan, a friend of the McCall family's who was answering the telephone Friday night at their Waco home.

A 23-year-old Southwest Texas State University student was arrested in connection with the shooting spree.

Todd Carman, a senior psychology major from Spring, was charged with capital murder and attempted murder. Justice of the Peace Macel Sullivan set bail at $50,000 on the attempted murder charge and denied bail! on the capital charge.

Travis County Medical Examiner Roberto Bayardo said Mr. Martin was shot 13 times and Ms. Reynolds three times.

The wounded woman, Shannon L. Roeder, 21, of San Marcos, was in guarded condition in the intensive care unit of Central Texas Medical Center, a hospital spokesman said.

Ms. Roeder, a junior at Southwest Texas State, underwent surgery for a neck wound.

Police said all three victims were found in the living room of an apartment that Mr. Carman and Ms. Roeder shared.

Mr. Carman remained jailed as authorities tried to determine the motive for the shootings.

Mr. Martin's mother last saw him Thursday night, when he dined with her and Dr. McCall in Waco. He left for San Marcos about 9 p.m. "All we know is he got to San Marcos about midnight,' Ms. Reagan said.

Ms. Reagan said police knew little about the shooting. Mr. Martin and Ms. Reynolds apparently were visiting San Marcos because she was considering enrolling in college there, Ms. Reagan said. -

1991 Copyright The Dallas Morning News Company
Record Number: 07*13*DAL1208371
sandmansister: (Scribble)
The nightmares stopped years and years ago, but there's still a hole in my heart that will never heal. Sure, other friends have come into my life and Grinch-like made my heart bigger so I could love them all, but that doesn't change the fact that my friend Scott is gone.

Can't believe it's been 20 years.

Don't know how I'm going to get through typing this post, but I have to. I don't know if anyone besides [livejournal.com profile] buffalobills and I remember, but I feel like someone has to mark the time, to somehow immortalize someone taken from us all too soon.

I know [livejournal.com profile] apocalypticbob can relate.

Loss is part of life. This isn't news. I have lost loved ones due to age, illness, accident, and suicide. They're all tragic—every one. I mourn. I grieve. But there's a pathology to losing someone to murder that makes healing exponentially different (if not outright impossible).

I've posted about him before, my sweet Scooter, trying to capture the bits and pieces of time when our lives intersected. All my photo albums are in storage; I'm hoping Jacque can track down a picture. I have an urgent need to see his face again.

I don't know if it was because I was just 19 when we met—such a drastic time of change in my life—that helped that time of my life make such an indelible mark on me. I was just starting to figure out who I wanted to be. No, that's not quite right. I was starting to see what was actually possible. Scott—my Scooter—was a big part of that. Hell, everyone that lived upstairs in those apartments on Oram was a big part of that, and I'm eternally grateful. Paula, Stace, Jennifer, Danny, Scott and Martha, Mark, and (heaven help me) Shawn.

Anytime I'm driving late at night in Dallas, I almost instantly feel like I'm back then/there—crazy nights when my blood boiled and I couldn't stay inside;I had to drive or die (or so it seemed). I just needed an open sun roof, air on my face and something good on the radio. Under the sodium glow of the street lights I could breathe again, like a shark needs to keep moving to stay alive.

I've mostly forced myself out of the habit of looking for him when I go to a show. It wasn't as extreme as Shawn where I'd miss him badly enough and he'd manifest, but I'd wonder how Scooter was doing and within a brief span of time I'd run into him at Clearview or Trees. It's a sucker punch to the solar plexus every time I realize I'll never see him again, all because some dumb ass dropped a couple hits of acid, freaked out and shot my friend thirteen times.

Aaaaand here we go. It's still so fresh in so many ways. I will never be completely out of tears to cry over this. They're not as debilitating or frequent, but they still flow easily.

Twenty years. It hardly seems possible.

I love and miss you still, Scooter. I haven't forgotten you. I never will.

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~

JULY 13, 1991

Grandson of ex-Baylor president among 2 fatally shot

Author: From Staff and Wire Reports

Edition: HOME FINAL
Section: NEWS
Page: 31A

Article Text:

A grandson of former Baylor University president Abner McCall was one of two Dallas residents shot to death early Friday in an attack at a San Marcos apartment complex.

A third person was critically wounded.

The dead were identified as Andrea L. Reynolds and Richard Scott Martin, both 20. Mr. Martin, a Baylor University journalism student, was Dr. McCall's grandson. He was shot 13 times with a .22-caliber semiautomatic rifle, authorities said. "It's just a young life cut short by a terrible tragedy,' said Nelwyn Reagan, a friend of the McCall family's who was answering the telephone Friday night at their Waco home.

A 23-year-old Southwest Texas State University student was arrested in connection with the shooting spree.

Todd Carman, a senior psychology major from Spring, was charged with capital murder and attempted murder. Justice of the Peace Macel Sullivan set bail at $50,000 on the attempted murder charge and denied bail! on the capital charge.

Travis County Medical Examiner Roberto Bayardo said Mr. Martin was shot 13 times and Ms. Reynolds three times.

The wounded woman, Shannon L. Roeder, 21, of San Marcos, was in guarded condition in the intensive care unit of Central Texas Medical Center, a hospital spokesman said.

Ms. Roeder, a junior at Southwest Texas State, underwent surgery for a neck wound.

Police said all three victims were found in the living room of an apartment that Mr. Carman and Ms. Roeder shared.

Mr. Carman remained jailed as authorities tried to determine the motive for the shootings.

Mr. Martin's mother last saw him Thursday night, when he dined with her and Dr. McCall in Waco. He left for San Marcos about 9 p.m. "All we know is he got to San Marcos about midnight,' Ms. Reagan said.

Ms. Reagan said police knew little about the shooting. Mr. Martin and Ms. Reynolds apparently were visiting San Marcos because she was considering enrolling in college there, Ms. Reagan said. -

1991 Copyright The Dallas Morning News Company
Record Number: 07*13*DAL1208371
sandmansister: (Real Me)
Tuesday night was a string of perfect moments, back-to-back-to-back. (I know, I know... when I am Enlightened I will realize that they are *all* perfect, but until I am that smart, I will simply say that I was more aware of the perfection of Tuesday.)

Met with MomJudy and two new friends—L & L—who worked with Jimmy at the CD store. Those of you at his memorial may remember them as those who dedicated a star to him. (It rises on his birthday and is high overhead on the day he left us.) To continue the symbolism and further honor his memory, we got red star tattoos ('cuz if he were a color he would certainly be red). Ogie already had one, as did L & L, so Judy and I make 5. (We should totally form a punk band: Red Star Quintet.)

Caleb at Saints and Sinners did the honors. They have a new location in Oak Cliff's Bishop Arts District (♥ that area!), so there was quick window shopping of funkiness before heading down the street to The Quinn to toast the occasion... and seal the bond of friendships old and new.

As we said to Ogie... aaaaah, the smell of fresh ink wafting over a Guinness...

We relaxed on the patio, sharing memories and stories and basking in the mutual love of our sweetest friend. MomJudy was right... he would love that we're still close, and that he's brought even more people together.

I knew the Powers That Be smiled upon us when most of the patio patrons had cleared out, but one lone girl apppeared. She couldn't help but overhear the conversation, and commented that we were having a great girls' night out. We asked her to join us, and when she asked about the occasion we shared the story, including the date of his birth... which just happens to be hers, too. It felt like a benediction, grace from the great unknown.

"Forever" was queued on my CD player when I reluctantly got in the car to head home. I opened the moon roof and sang along at the top of my lungs. Something about that song in that moment felt perfect, though I couldn't decide if I was singing to Jimmy, or he was singing to me. There were things I'd want to tell him in those lyrics, but certain other parts rang true as things he would say to me.

No matter... we communed on some level in our spirits then. And it was perfection (the kind that may or may not have included commingled tears of joy and sorrow).

Forever
~ Bruderschaft

I don't believe in the existence of mercy's guiding hand...
Not with all that I have witnessed, I cannot understand.
Forever burdened with the knowledge that I could have been so much more
When the truth is hard to suffer, I knew this all before.

There is no comfort in faith, the heavens still will fall.
A thousand towers rise before me and I cannot climb them all.
There is no kind of joy in this, there is no time that it can heal,
When emptiness enshadows bliss, there is nothing left to feel.

I have not abandoned hope, though I know there's nothing more.
Tired and alone, you forget what you hoped for.

I will walk this ground forever
and stand guard against your name.
I will give all I can offer,
I will shoulder all the blame.
I am sentry to you now,
all your hopes and all your dreams.
I will hold you to the light,
that's what forever means.

I was never what you wanted, I could never never please.
I swallowed all our sorrow in the midst of my disease.
All my fortunes, all my gains, all the battles I have won...
Now collapsing like the rain, I stand alone, your only son...

Take some solace in these words, take notice of this place.
Hollow whispers that they are, like the wind upon my face.
Sing softly in my ear and look at me with wonder.
I will try to ease your fear as the darkness pulls you under.

I will walk this ground forever
and stand guard against your name.
I will give all I can offer,
I will shoulder all the blame.
I am sentry to you now,
all your hopes and all your dreams.
I will hold you to the light,
that's what forever means.
sandmansister: (Real Me)
Tuesday night was a string of perfect moments, back-to-back-to-back. (I know, I know... when I am Enlightened I will realize that they are *all* perfect, but until I am that smart, I will simply say that I was more aware of the perfection of Tuesday.)

Met with MomJudy and two new friends—L & L—who worked with Jimmy at the CD store. Those of you at his memorial may remember them as those who dedicated a star to him. (It rises on his birthday and is high overhead on the day he left us.) To continue the symbolism and further honor his memory, we got red star tattoos ('cuz if he were a color he would certainly be red). Ogie already had one, as did L & L, so Judy and I make 5. (We should totally form a punk band: Red Star Quintet.)

Caleb at Saints and Sinners did the honors. They have a new location in Oak Cliff's Bishop Arts District (♥ that area!), so there was quick window shopping of funkiness before heading down the street to The Quinn to toast the occasion... and seal the bond of friendships old and new.

As we said to Ogie... aaaaah, the smell of fresh ink wafting over a Guinness...

We relaxed on the patio, sharing memories and stories and basking in the mutual love of our sweetest friend. MomJudy was right... he would love that we're still close, and that he's brought even more people together.

I knew the Powers That Be smiled upon us when most of the patio patrons had cleared out, but one lone girl apppeared. She couldn't help but overhear the conversation, and commented that we were having a great girls' night out. We asked her to join us, and when she asked about the occasion we shared the story, including the date of his birth... which just happens to be hers, too. It felt like a benediction, grace from the great unknown.

"Forever" was queued on my CD player when I reluctantly got in the car to head home. I opened the moon roof and sang along at the top of my lungs. Something about that song in that moment felt perfect, though I couldn't decide if I was singing to Jimmy, or he was singing to me. There were things I'd want to tell him in those lyrics, but certain other parts rang true as things he would say to me.

No matter... we communed on some level in our spirits then. And it was perfection (the kind that may or may not have included commingled tears of joy and sorrow).

Forever
~ Bruderschaft

I don't believe in the existence of mercy's guiding hand...
Not with all that I have witnessed, I cannot understand.
Forever burdened with the knowledge that I could have been so much more
When the truth is hard to suffer, I knew this all before.

There is no comfort in faith, the heavens still will fall.
A thousand towers rise before me and I cannot climb them all.
There is no kind of joy in this, there is no time that it can heal,
When emptiness enshadows bliss, there is nothing left to feel.

I have not abandoned hope, though I know there's nothing more.
Tired and alone, you forget what you hoped for.

I will walk this ground forever
and stand guard against your name.
I will give all I can offer,
I will shoulder all the blame.
I am sentry to you now,
all your hopes and all your dreams.
I will hold you to the light,
that's what forever means.

I was never what you wanted, I could never never please.
I swallowed all our sorrow in the midst of my disease.
All my fortunes, all my gains, all the battles I have won...
Now collapsing like the rain, I stand alone, your only son...

Take some solace in these words, take notice of this place.
Hollow whispers that they are, like the wind upon my face.
Sing softly in my ear and look at me with wonder.
I will try to ease your fear as the darkness pulls you under.

I will walk this ground forever
and stand guard against your name.
I will give all I can offer,
I will shoulder all the blame.
I am sentry to you now,
all your hopes and all your dreams.
I will hold you to the light,
that's what forever means.
sandmansister: (Real Me)
Tuesday night was a string of perfect moments, back-to-back-to-back. (I know, I know... when I am Enlightened I will realize that they are *all* perfect, but until I am that smart, I will simply say that I was more aware of the perfection of Tuesday.)

Met with MomJudy and two new friends—L & L—who worked with Jimmy at the CD store. Those of you at his memorial may remember them as those who dedicated a star to him. (It rises on his birthday and is high overhead on the day he left us.) To continue the symbolism and further honor his memory, we got red star tattoos ('cuz if he were a color he would certainly be red). Ogie already had one, as did L & L, so Judy and I make 5. (We should totally form a punk band: Red Star Quintet.)

Caleb at Saints and Sinners did the honors. They have a new location in Oak Cliff's Bishop Arts District (♥ that area!), so there was quick window shopping of funkiness before heading down the street to The Quinn to toast the occasion... and seal the bond of friendships old and new.

As we said to Ogie... aaaaah, the smell of fresh ink wafting over a Guinness...

We relaxed on the patio, sharing memories and stories and basking in the mutual love of our sweetest friend. MomJudy was right... he would love that we're still close, and that he's brought even more people together.

I knew the Powers That Be smiled upon us when most of the patio patrons had cleared out, but one lone girl apppeared. She couldn't help but overhear the conversation, and commented that we were having a great girls' night out. We asked her to join us, and when she asked about the occasion we shared the story, including the date of his birth... which just happens to be hers, too. It felt like a benediction, grace from the great unknown.

"Forever" was queued on my CD player when I reluctantly got in the car to head home. I opened the moon roof and sang along at the top of my lungs. Something about that song in that moment felt perfect, though I couldn't decide if I was singing to Jimmy, or he was singing to me. There were things I'd want to tell him in those lyrics, but certain other parts rang true as things he would say to me.

No matter... we communed on some level in our spirits then. And it was perfection (the kind that may or may not have included commingled tears of joy and sorrow).

Forever
~ Bruderschaft

I don't believe in the existence of mercy's guiding hand...
Not with all that I have witnessed, I cannot understand.
Forever burdened with the knowledge that I could have been so much more
When the truth is hard to suffer, I knew this all before.

There is no comfort in faith, the heavens still will fall.
A thousand towers rise before me and I cannot climb them all.
There is no kind of joy in this, there is no time that it can heal,
When emptiness enshadows bliss, there is nothing left to feel.

I have not abandoned hope, though I know there's nothing more.
Tired and alone, you forget what you hoped for.

I will walk this ground forever
and stand guard against your name.
I will give all I can offer,
I will shoulder all the blame.
I am sentry to you now,
all your hopes and all your dreams.
I will hold you to the light,
that's what forever means.

I was never what you wanted, I could never never please.
I swallowed all our sorrow in the midst of my disease.
All my fortunes, all my gains, all the battles I have won...
Now collapsing like the rain, I stand alone, your only son...

Take some solace in these words, take notice of this place.
Hollow whispers that they are, like the wind upon my face.
Sing softly in my ear and look at me with wonder.
I will try to ease your fear as the darkness pulls you under.

I will walk this ground forever
and stand guard against your name.
I will give all I can offer,
I will shoulder all the blame.
I am sentry to you now,
all your hopes and all your dreams.
I will hold you to the light,
that's what forever means.
sandmansister: (Real Me)
Tuesday night was a string of perfect moments, back-to-back-to-back. (I know, I know... when I am Enlightened I will realize that they are *all* perfect, but until I am that smart, I will simply say that I was more aware of the perfection of Tuesday.)

Met with MomJudy and two new friends—L & L—who worked with Jimmy at the CD store. Those of you at his memorial may remember them as those who dedicated a star to him. (It rises on his birthday and is high overhead on the day he left us.) To continue the symbolism and further honor his memory, we got red star tattoos ('cuz if he were a color he would certainly be red). Ogie already had one, as did L & L, so Judy and I make 5. (We should totally form a punk band: Red Star Quintet.)

Caleb at Saints and Sinners did the honors. They have a new location in Oak Cliff's Bishop Arts District (♥ that area!), so there was quick window shopping of funkiness before heading down the street to The Quinn to toast the occasion... and seal the bond of friendships old and new.

As we said to Ogie... aaaaah, the smell of fresh ink wafting over a Guinness...

We relaxed on the patio, sharing memories and stories and basking in the mutual love of our sweetest friend. MomJudy was right... he would love that we're still close, and that he's brought even more people together.

I knew the Powers That Be smiled upon us when most of the patio patrons had cleared out, but one lone girl apppeared. She couldn't help but overhear the conversation, and commented that we were having a great girls' night out. We asked her to join us, and when she asked about the occasion we shared the story, including the date of his birth... which just happens to be hers, too. It felt like a benediction, grace from the great unknown.

"Forever" was queued on my CD player when I reluctantly got in the car to head home. I opened the moon roof and sang along at the top of my lungs. Something about that song in that moment felt perfect, though I couldn't decide if I was singing to Jimmy, or he was singing to me. There were things I'd want to tell him in those lyrics, but certain other parts rang true as things he would say to me.

No matter... we communed on some level in our spirits then. And it was perfection (the kind that may or may not have included commingled tears of joy and sorrow).

Forever
~ Bruderschaft

I don't believe in the existence of mercy's guiding hand...
Not with all that I have witnessed, I cannot understand.
Forever burdened with the knowledge that I could have been so much more
When the truth is hard to suffer, I knew this all before.

There is no comfort in faith, the heavens still will fall.
A thousand towers rise before me and I cannot climb them all.
There is no kind of joy in this, there is no time that it can heal,
When emptiness enshadows bliss, there is nothing left to feel.

I have not abandoned hope, though I know there's nothing more.
Tired and alone, you forget what you hoped for.

I will walk this ground forever
and stand guard against your name.
I will give all I can offer,
I will shoulder all the blame.
I am sentry to you now,
all your hopes and all your dreams.
I will hold you to the light,
that's what forever means.

I was never what you wanted, I could never never please.
I swallowed all our sorrow in the midst of my disease.
All my fortunes, all my gains, all the battles I have won...
Now collapsing like the rain, I stand alone, your only son...

Take some solace in these words, take notice of this place.
Hollow whispers that they are, like the wind upon my face.
Sing softly in my ear and look at me with wonder.
I will try to ease your fear as the darkness pulls you under.

I will walk this ground forever
and stand guard against your name.
I will give all I can offer,
I will shoulder all the blame.
I am sentry to you now,
all your hopes and all your dreams.
I will hold you to the light,
that's what forever means.
sandmansister: (Toon - Mellow Resigned Straightforward)
Those of you in Tejas may have heard that a game warden drowned this week trying to save a swimmer.

Some of you may recall that my little sister used to be a game warden, and met her husband—still a game warden—in the academy. They knew the deceased (he was assigned just one county over from BIL's post).

My BIL worked with him on several occasions (vacation coverage and the like).

He was there when they recovered the body.

My first instinct is to reach out, to say something... but we're not close. He doesn't necessarily dislike me (but I wouldn't go so far as to say he likes me, either). I don't think I've said a dozen sentences to him (nor he to me) in the 10 years they've been married ("Hi Preston" and "How's it going" don't count).

I have no illusions that we'll ever bond (he's just not built that way, and I'm way too much of a freak for him)... but sheesh. I'm sad for him, and sadder still that I am so torn over what (if anything) to do about it.

I'll probably just email my sister and have her pass on the sentiment so as not to be intrusive or overwhelming to him.




*sigh*
sandmansister: (Toon - Mellow Resigned Straightforward)
Those of you in Tejas may have heard that a game warden drowned this week trying to save a swimmer.

Some of you may recall that my little sister used to be a game warden, and met her husband—still a game warden—in the academy. They knew the deceased (he was assigned just one county over from BIL's post).

My BIL worked with him on several occasions (vacation coverage and the like).

He was there when they recovered the body.

My first instinct is to reach out, to say something... but we're not close. He doesn't necessarily dislike me (but I wouldn't go so far as to say he likes me, either). I don't think I've said a dozen sentences to him (nor he to me) in the 10 years they've been married ("Hi Preston" and "How's it going" don't count).

I have no illusions that we'll ever bond (he's just not built that way, and I'm way too much of a freak for him)... but sheesh. I'm sad for him, and sadder still that I am so torn over what (if anything) to do about it.

I'll probably just email my sister and have her pass on the sentiment so as not to be intrusive or overwhelming to him.




*sigh*
sandmansister: (Toon - Mellow Resigned Straightforward)
Those of you in Tejas may have heard that a game warden drowned this week trying to save a swimmer.

Some of you may recall that my little sister used to be a game warden, and met her husband—still a game warden—in the academy. They knew the deceased (he was assigned just one county over from BIL's post).

My BIL worked with him on several occasions (vacation coverage and the like).

He was there when they recovered the body.

My first instinct is to reach out, to say something... but we're not close. He doesn't necessarily dislike me (but I wouldn't go so far as to say he likes me, either). I don't think I've said a dozen sentences to him (nor he to me) in the 10 years they've been married ("Hi Preston" and "How's it going" don't count).

I have no illusions that we'll ever bond (he's just not built that way, and I'm way too much of a freak for him)... but sheesh. I'm sad for him, and sadder still that I am so torn over what (if anything) to do about it.

I'll probably just email my sister and have her pass on the sentiment so as not to be intrusive or overwhelming to him.




*sigh*
sandmansister: (Toon - Mellow Resigned Straightforward)
Those of you in Tejas may have heard that a game warden drowned this week trying to save a swimmer.

Some of you may recall that my little sister used to be a game warden, and met her husband—still a game warden—in the academy. They knew the deceased (he was assigned just one county over from BIL's post).

My BIL worked with him on several occasions (vacation coverage and the like).

He was there when they recovered the body.

My first instinct is to reach out, to say something... but we're not close. He doesn't necessarily dislike me (but I wouldn't go so far as to say he likes me, either). I don't think I've said a dozen sentences to him (nor he to me) in the 10 years they've been married ("Hi Preston" and "How's it going" don't count).

I have no illusions that we'll ever bond (he's just not built that way, and I'm way too much of a freak for him)... but sheesh. I'm sad for him, and sadder still that I am so torn over what (if anything) to do about it.

I'll probably just email my sister and have her pass on the sentiment so as not to be intrusive or overwhelming to him.




*sigh*

Blindsided

May. 16th, 2007 12:35 pm
sandmansister: (Oh Noz)
A couple weeks ago, a co-worker (in another department, but someone with whom I had collaborated several times) died from complications of her lap band surgery.

I had forgotten to delete her from my office IM system. Was looking for someone else on her team and didn't even realize...

Wow, that was hard.

We weren't super close, but she was always warm and funny, and we worked well together. I don't think she was even 40 yet.

Boo.

Blindsided

May. 16th, 2007 12:35 pm
sandmansister: (Oh Noz)
A couple weeks ago, a co-worker (in another department, but someone with whom I had collaborated several times) died from complications of her lap band surgery.

I had forgotten to delete her from my office IM system. Was looking for someone else on her team and didn't even realize...

Wow, that was hard.

We weren't super close, but she was always warm and funny, and we worked well together. I don't think she was even 40 yet.

Boo.

Blindsided

May. 16th, 2007 12:35 pm
sandmansister: (Default)
A couple weeks ago, a co-worker (in another department, but someone with whom I had collaborated several times) died from complications of her lap band surgery.

I had forgotten to delete her from my office IM system. Was looking for someone else on her team and didn't even realize...

Wow, that was hard.

We weren't super close, but she was always warm and funny, and we worked well together. I don't think she was even 40 yet.

Boo.

Blindsided

May. 16th, 2007 12:35 pm
sandmansister: (Oh Noz)
A couple weeks ago, a co-worker (in another department, but someone with whom I had collaborated several times) died from complications of her lap band surgery.

I had forgotten to delete her from my office IM system. Was looking for someone else on her team and didn't even realize...

Wow, that was hard.

We weren't super close, but she was always warm and funny, and we worked well together. I don't think she was even 40 yet.

Boo.
sandmansister: (Lost Hug)
This song always reminds me of Jimmy. Most of the time, I love the random shuffle feature of my MP3 player. Sometimes it blindsides me.

It was an early morning phone call December
That got my attention
They called to tell me that you were gone
You were the strength of all my hopes and inspirations
You were the music in my song

Sometimes what doesn't seem so fair
That's what makes us more aware

I know you're smiling
I know you're singing, I know that you're in a better place
Where angels wings caress you
But I still miss you

More than leaves are falling this October
It's just that I wanted to stand with you for awhile
Now I'm walking through a doorway to tomorrow
More like running, running out of time

Sometimes what doesn't seem so fair
That's what makes us more aware

I know you're smiling
I know you're singing, I know that you're in a better place
Where angels wings caress you
But I still miss you



He was—and is—the music in my song. When I got it right, when I was really in the zone I'd see it all over his face, writ in his whole body. His posture would change, and he'd throw his head back like a paroxysm of ecstasy... and knowing him, it was erotica! I lived to get that kind of visceral reaction... especially from him.

His pain is over, and for that I am eternally grateful. My broken heart should seem like a small price to pay... but today I am selfish. I want to see the look on his face when we nail "Ave Verum Corpus," or doo-wop our way through "How Do I Love Thee?".

I want to laugh with and hold my friend again.
sandmansister: (Lost Hug)
This song always reminds me of Jimmy. Most of the time, I love the random shuffle feature of my MP3 player. Sometimes it blindsides me.

It was an early morning phone call December
That got my attention
They called to tell me that you were gone
You were the strength of all my hopes and inspirations
You were the music in my song

Sometimes what doesn't seem so fair
That's what makes us more aware

I know you're smiling
I know you're singing, I know that you're in a better place
Where angels wings caress you
But I still miss you

More than leaves are falling this October
It's just that I wanted to stand with you for awhile
Now I'm walking through a doorway to tomorrow
More like running, running out of time

Sometimes what doesn't seem so fair
That's what makes us more aware

I know you're smiling
I know you're singing, I know that you're in a better place
Where angels wings caress you
But I still miss you



He was—and is—the music in my song. When I got it right, when I was really in the zone I'd see it all over his face, writ in his whole body. His posture would change, and he'd throw his head back like a paroxysm of ecstasy... and knowing him, it was erotica! I lived to get that kind of visceral reaction... especially from him.

His pain is over, and for that I am eternally grateful. My broken heart should seem like a small price to pay... but today I am selfish. I want to see the look on his face when we nail "Ave Verum Corpus," or doo-wop our way through "How Do I Love Thee?".

I want to laugh with and hold my friend again.
sandmansister: (Lost Hug)
This song always reminds me of Jimmy. Most of the time, I love the random shuffle feature of my MP3 player. Sometimes it blindsides me.

It was an early morning phone call December
That got my attention
They called to tell me that you were gone
You were the strength of all my hopes and inspirations
You were the music in my song

Sometimes what doesn't seem so fair
That's what makes us more aware

I know you're smiling
I know you're singing, I know that you're in a better place
Where angels wings caress you
But I still miss you

More than leaves are falling this October
It's just that I wanted to stand with you for awhile
Now I'm walking through a doorway to tomorrow
More like running, running out of time

Sometimes what doesn't seem so fair
That's what makes us more aware

I know you're smiling
I know you're singing, I know that you're in a better place
Where angels wings caress you
But I still miss you



He was—and is—the music in my song. When I got it right, when I was really in the zone I'd see it all over his face, writ in his whole body. His posture would change, and he'd throw his head back like a paroxysm of ecstasy... and knowing him, it was erotica! I lived to get that kind of visceral reaction... especially from him.

His pain is over, and for that I am eternally grateful. My broken heart should seem like a small price to pay... but today I am selfish. I want to see the look on his face when we nail "Ave Verum Corpus," or doo-wop our way through "How Do I Love Thee?".

I want to laugh with and hold my friend again.

A Sad Day

Jul. 12th, 2004 09:43 am
sandmansister: (GIR crying)
The nightmares have (mostly) faded, but the pain? It's abated a little in terms of frequency but when it comes, it's full force. Even after 13 years it is keen as ever. Such losses have no "use by" date.

Thirteen years ago today my Scooter was murdered, shot thirteen times in the chest. He and his girlfriend Andrea, shot nine times by the same pitiful excuse for a human-shaped carbon unit, were at San Marcos looking into transferring to the university there. Her friend's boyfriend took 2 hits of acid... and the lives of two wonderful people.

My friend, Scott Martin, dead at 21.


A gentler soul you could never want to meet: soft spoken, mellow and kind beyond measure. Though he spoke rarely to people he didn't know, he chatted [livejournal.com profile] buffalobills' ear off immediately. Go fig.

He loved REM with a passion I didn't quite understand... but it suited him somehow. Scott's short hair to contrasted Shawn's light brown sunstreaked tresses, but his bangs were a foot long, ending in this endearing curl. His standard posture found him inclining his head ever so slightly to the right, almost coquettishly. We bonded and formed the unofficial Hide-Half-Your-Face-Behind-Hair Club. I was an honorary member, having lopped off my mass of permed curls for a Joan Jett spiky do—I got in based on photo evidence of my previous look. Maybe that's why, upon growing out my locks, any other style gives me pause to this day. It's a fitting tribute.

So many of my Scooter memories intertwine with those of my First Real LoveTM, the aforementioned Shawn (they went to high school together). But they're not really the kind of memories I can share. There's not much narrative, no real anecdotes with neat, clean beginnings, middles or endings. They're more a montage of random snapshots, interspersed with certain scents (patchouli and sandalwood, mostly), textures and, more than anything, songs. It wouldn't make sense to anyone, with the possible exception of [livejournal.com profile] buffalobills, outside my own head. When I try to quantify it I find myself mystified. So I try to let it roll and crash over me like waves, like thunder, like cymbals until the feeling stops eclipsing all other experience and my mind scrambles to bring it back... only to chase it further, lost to the inexorable ebb and flow of tides in my mind.

To this day, I can't hear "Shiny Happy People" without thinking of him. The B-52s are one of my favorites (loyal fan since '81) and that song brought together two loves from two divergent people in one musical lovefest. I swear when those first jangly, quirky chords hit my eardrums I feel his arms wrap around me, telling me he's OK, he's one of the people who are both shiny and happy now.

But as I write this, at my office desk, no less, I find myself welling up with tears all over again. Had to pause several times to keep from losing it... that can wait until I get home. My surly betta won't care if my mascara—or my nose—runs.

It's unconscionable to think of such a thing befalling him... or anyone, really. People get sick. Accidents happen, and they are tragic, to be sure. But murder?!?!? No, not in my world.

There's something in me that will never quite mend, knowing that someone snuffed out two lives—that he willfully brought about the demise of someone I love. I can't reconcile myself to that. Moreover, I don't want to.

I remember that dreaded voice mail from our friend Paula, then-wife of Stace (of Skin and Bones fame). We were all neighbors, in this funky 8-unit apartment on Oram. I was living with [livejournal.com profile] buffalobills when I got the call, because Paula didn't want us to hear it on the 6pm news. So much of it is a blur. I'm sure I cried with [livejournal.com profile] buffalobills. A lot. Shawn and I, long since parted, managed to find each other (like we always did) to share the sad news, though we never got to just hang out and chat over a beer, to play catch up and remember. At some point I went to our spot at White Rock Lake to pour out my heart. A summer storm rolled in as I stood on the pier, shaking my fist at the heavens.

I made promises and bargains with Fate, swearing that I would get it right next time, that I would wait to have a son until Scooter could come back. I would love him unconditionally so he'd never have to drop out of school, deal drugs for a living, clean up his act and get a GED only to have the desperate act of a coward him take him out of the game. I would keep him safe. I'd give him the kind of life he deserves... if only I got to see him again in the flesh, hold him and let him know how much I love him still. I'm sad that I may never have the proper circumstances to make good on my promises. But when I hear that song and feel his arms around me I think he knows I love him still, with all my heart.

The annual onslaught of nightmares has stopped, for the most part. I no longer labor under the illusion that I could have stopped it. The pain still lingers, though I find it comforting these days. It reminds me of what is still true:

I love you, my sweet Scooter.

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