Wendell Pinset
In order to truly appreciate this fiction, you'll need to download this file. the music came first. now lets make up a story.
http://download.yousendit.com/F05412CD38B543CF
(Put that song on repeat, and read on.)
'and believe me. I could butter you up all day in hopes that one day it all works out and I get to hold you in my arms and whisk you away to a magical place where clothes are made of kisses and taste is the only sensation you will really ever need.'
Wendell Pinset
Wendell is a seventy-one year old man. Well technically he's not anymore. Wendell Pinset is dead. He died about 9 days ago. In bed. With his family near by. Well. Around the bed. Wendell lived a long, prosperous and happy life. So it seemed. For a 71-year-old man, he was hell on wheels. (his legs worked fine) always making wisecracks, one-liners, and sweet romantic comments to older woman and younger woman alike. His merriment was infectious. Wendell was a strong man, which attributed to his Gerber Daisy longevity. He's dead now though. A good death. The kind where, as a reader, you are ready for and can welcome with only the slightest sting of reality at its worst. The music tells the tale better than words seem to. The way it describes, most specifically, his final minutes, even seconds. The way you can envision his eyelids dying to stay open for a just a few more seconds of lifetime and sunlight. The way everything seems to happen at once. The way his daughters grip on his arm tightens just that much more as a tear leaves her eye and drips onto his hospital gown. But she’s smiling. How big of her. How strong of her. To stand and look this crippling disease right in the face and say, 'You may be stripping me of everything I know and love, but you will not break me. No, you will take a part of me with you. She has come a long way since they we're all first given the news of dad's condition. And in the months to follow, leading up to his death they would see a man truly live out the most impactive denoument. Carpe Diem is for the scripted. This man defined conclusion. With an exclusive understanding of what was and what will be. The part I've left out is this. Wendell lived, but he lived with a closet full of skeletons. A past full of vindictive tragedies, the kind you only fully revisit in your sleep, or when its raining really hard. But boy how this man could act. And the only thing that made it that much worse, was the fact that he lived it alone. A life, not of lies, but from lies. We'd all be lying to ourselves if we said there was not a past from which we wish we never survived. Well, maybe not, but its arguable as to whether or not you can judge how much one has lived by the measure of their regrets. Wendell loved though. Always. Everything. Everyway. He lived with such a hunger and a fire. With such a determination and a lust for life and adventure. Even though we're born to doubt it, he seemed to carry such a flame in his eyes, and from even a young age, influenced so much good in this world. And when the time came for his number to be drawn, upon diagnosis, he realized that it was in these few months he had left the most, that he would truly revise a love that so desperately needed to change. Wendell wasn't married anymore, although a ladies man, throughout his life he loved many and many loved him back. But in turn he left a long trail of broken hearts and tattered bonds. He had managed to give away so much of himself to so many people yet still hold onto everything that made him who he was. Was it just an animalistic need for consumption? Or did he really have that much love to give. Whatever it was, it took its toll. Its funny how in most cases, the most comfortable places in life seems to be just seconds away from hitting bottom. And in this case, it was all of the above. Nothing says wake up and make good, like a crippling terminal illness. Wendell was not a quitter by any standard. It may have been his pride alone that got him as far as he did, but something changed. It was only once he realized the severity of his case that time seemed to have a governor. A limit. An end. And that sooner or later, he would meet this end. It was up to Wendell to decide how it would take place. The months to follow were almost unbearable at times. Painful, embarrassing, and ever so discomposing. but nothing could break him. And oh how inspiring it was to watch him endure even the darkest days with such a contentment for life and love for his family. 'a chipper old fellow, always making people smile' Wendell is described by a nurse who was with him in his last days. She was able to witness a turning point in him, a place where he seemed to let go of so much hurt, or what seemed to be, just a past of regrets. 'He seemed to have just let it all go'. Truly, a milestone. More than for himself, it made those who love him, so much stronger. To see him embrace his rounding existence with such pride and strength. It gave birth to an acceptance that would carry his children through this process with much resolve. And in the last seconds, as his eyelids reluctantly inched towards each other, a smile passed across his face, a cold, dying sort of smile. But one that held such contentment and release. The kind that made the viewer cringe only in the slightest, for there was so much more going on behind that half cocked grin, that as one close to him could only assume, Dad had made peace with himself. The kind of story where even the smallest adjustments in character and time and place seem to take such an effect on the viewer. The kind that makes you wish you could only be that lucky. Look both ways before you cross the street.
-JWH
http://download.yousendit.com/F05412CD38B543CF
(Put that song on repeat, and read on.)
'and believe me. I could butter you up all day in hopes that one day it all works out and I get to hold you in my arms and whisk you away to a magical place where clothes are made of kisses and taste is the only sensation you will really ever need.'
Wendell Pinset
Wendell is a seventy-one year old man. Well technically he's not anymore. Wendell Pinset is dead. He died about 9 days ago. In bed. With his family near by. Well. Around the bed. Wendell lived a long, prosperous and happy life. So it seemed. For a 71-year-old man, he was hell on wheels. (his legs worked fine) always making wisecracks, one-liners, and sweet romantic comments to older woman and younger woman alike. His merriment was infectious. Wendell was a strong man, which attributed to his Gerber Daisy longevity. He's dead now though. A good death. The kind where, as a reader, you are ready for and can welcome with only the slightest sting of reality at its worst. The music tells the tale better than words seem to. The way it describes, most specifically, his final minutes, even seconds. The way you can envision his eyelids dying to stay open for a just a few more seconds of lifetime and sunlight. The way everything seems to happen at once. The way his daughters grip on his arm tightens just that much more as a tear leaves her eye and drips onto his hospital gown. But she’s smiling. How big of her. How strong of her. To stand and look this crippling disease right in the face and say, 'You may be stripping me of everything I know and love, but you will not break me. No, you will take a part of me with you. She has come a long way since they we're all first given the news of dad's condition. And in the months to follow, leading up to his death they would see a man truly live out the most impactive denoument. Carpe Diem is for the scripted. This man defined conclusion. With an exclusive understanding of what was and what will be. The part I've left out is this. Wendell lived, but he lived with a closet full of skeletons. A past full of vindictive tragedies, the kind you only fully revisit in your sleep, or when its raining really hard. But boy how this man could act. And the only thing that made it that much worse, was the fact that he lived it alone. A life, not of lies, but from lies. We'd all be lying to ourselves if we said there was not a past from which we wish we never survived. Well, maybe not, but its arguable as to whether or not you can judge how much one has lived by the measure of their regrets. Wendell loved though. Always. Everything. Everyway. He lived with such a hunger and a fire. With such a determination and a lust for life and adventure. Even though we're born to doubt it, he seemed to carry such a flame in his eyes, and from even a young age, influenced so much good in this world. And when the time came for his number to be drawn, upon diagnosis, he realized that it was in these few months he had left the most, that he would truly revise a love that so desperately needed to change. Wendell wasn't married anymore, although a ladies man, throughout his life he loved many and many loved him back. But in turn he left a long trail of broken hearts and tattered bonds. He had managed to give away so much of himself to so many people yet still hold onto everything that made him who he was. Was it just an animalistic need for consumption? Or did he really have that much love to give. Whatever it was, it took its toll. Its funny how in most cases, the most comfortable places in life seems to be just seconds away from hitting bottom. And in this case, it was all of the above. Nothing says wake up and make good, like a crippling terminal illness. Wendell was not a quitter by any standard. It may have been his pride alone that got him as far as he did, but something changed. It was only once he realized the severity of his case that time seemed to have a governor. A limit. An end. And that sooner or later, he would meet this end. It was up to Wendell to decide how it would take place. The months to follow were almost unbearable at times. Painful, embarrassing, and ever so discomposing. but nothing could break him. And oh how inspiring it was to watch him endure even the darkest days with such a contentment for life and love for his family. 'a chipper old fellow, always making people smile' Wendell is described by a nurse who was with him in his last days. She was able to witness a turning point in him, a place where he seemed to let go of so much hurt, or what seemed to be, just a past of regrets. 'He seemed to have just let it all go'. Truly, a milestone. More than for himself, it made those who love him, so much stronger. To see him embrace his rounding existence with such pride and strength. It gave birth to an acceptance that would carry his children through this process with much resolve. And in the last seconds, as his eyelids reluctantly inched towards each other, a smile passed across his face, a cold, dying sort of smile. But one that held such contentment and release. The kind that made the viewer cringe only in the slightest, for there was so much more going on behind that half cocked grin, that as one close to him could only assume, Dad had made peace with himself. The kind of story where even the smallest adjustments in character and time and place seem to take such an effect on the viewer. The kind that makes you wish you could only be that lucky. Look both ways before you cross the street.
-JWH
posted by honest at 4:48 PM
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