The case of Living Breath versus the Death Machine.

It was a beautiful moment I was granted twice in my life. Being a witness to the emerging of my children from their mother's womb. I ensured I looked to see my child was really there each time. It was a dream at first, a small creation I was one half responsible for bringing into this place we call our home.

Throughout my life I was always blessed from thoughts of family. I grew in my experiences from having brothers who were vibrant and full of adventure. Being the youngest of three boys, pranks and laughter always fill my brothers with the joy we felt being connected.

I was a bit reserved as a younger, shy brother. Always thinking and looking around at my home. My parents allowed us children to play hard but when it came to self-injury there was little absorption from them toward our pain. They would say things like " I don't want to hear it. Made me feel like they were mean and didn't care at the time. Looking back though, I understand the empowerment they left me.

I was 15 when my life changed drastically. My mother at the time 46, was dying of cancer. I was not told until I came home from school that she had passed on. I was completely numb and felt no wave of sadness or even a hint of pain finding out she had gone on. I couldn't reach in and bring it to the surface. Those words that ring in my ears every day and most often when I need her in the years since.

My mother had been going to the doctor a long time with secrecy. She never once mentioned the pain and the hardship she was going through the year prior to her death. I was not told the extent of her illness until recent times. My mother had cancer for a long time before she died. At least two years it was showing signs of its presence. I am now 47 years old. I made it a year older than my mother's age when she passed.

Long discussions with my eldest brother have brought the light to my absence of knowledge on our mother's condition before she died. It was told to me that she had been menstruating heavily for 28 out of 30 days each month. He was witness to my mother's battle behind the scenes all that time. She was a very strong woman despite the view of the people who she dealt with in life.

My mother was intelligent and creative. She would bring all of the family together during holidays and events. Spend hours laboring in the kitchen preparing meals with such exquisite taste. Sauces simmering on the stovetop for hours. Sweet aromas of tomato and herbs. I'm almost there in the kitchen as I recall those moments. My uncles, aunts, cousins, and other friends of the family would gather to sit and connect.

This made a lasting impression to me. To this day a sense of connection permeates my vision of goodness. I will be the first to invite people I've met to sit in my home and enjoy togetherness. I have retreated to the memories of growing with that connection. Those memories are my way of living with my mother in my heart.

It has been 32 years since I have heard my mother's voice. All those years passing and the feel of her warmth surrounding me is all a distant feeling deep in my mind. I carry that flame of love she instilled in me as a young child. It burns so bright when I think of her smile carried deep in my thoughts.

Shortly after my mother passed, a series of events propelled me though the separation of my family bonds. My father had taken my mother's death very hard I believe. They were together 21 years at that time, I remember the look in my father's eyes when he spoke to me about leaving the area after the dust had settled in the events after my mother was buried.

It was a loss I could not fathom. A family broken by the last breath my mother took. His pain was so much to bear. It is no secret to me that my father chose his way after the loss of his life partner. I know deep inside a piece of my father left when his wife left this world.

A period of a few months went by, and my family subsequently broke apart and scattered. The legacy my parents created in the family dissolved. The sudden loss of my mother drove madness to take hold of our lives. My childhood home decimated by a new romance for my father.

Holding on to the promises of love she gave him tightly as he could there was a blinding fast destruction to my place of sanctuary. My parents' house sold, and the disavowed protection of my father made clear to myself and my brothers. I as well as my brothers were disowned by him upon the pressure pitted against him by his new wife. So, it was now the streets for my home.

My elder brothers went their way, and I went mine. It is as if we were broken apart and forgot our ties to each other. My mother was the "glue" that held us together as I have heard so many times in discussions since. The new wife my father chose being the solvent destroying us in separation.

As I wandered the streets looking for a new sanctuary, it was obvious my pain had to come out. I didn't cry or weep for my mother passing so early in my life. Burying that pain was the best I could do. I could not face my place in this world. I had no tools to use in deciding my path. In turn, I wandered looking at the tragedy of living in a world of aloneness.

There were a few people who saw my pain. They gave great effort in trying to give me help in healing. It was fruitless for the most part because I was so withdrawn into my feelings of misunderstanding. The echo of "why?" reverberated inside me so loud I could not hear the offers of help.

Months went by and I found myself in perilous situation after perilous situation. Predators everywhere masked in kindness. I went toward them open arms believing they cared for me. They would reveal their intentions once I was relaxed enough to get at ease in their presence.

Kidnapped, mentally beaten, sexually targeted, and discarded at a moment's notice. I was thrown into the pit of despair many times to contemplate my fate. I survived them damaged throughout my self-image. Constantly trying to find a trust in people just to be severed from the feeling of kindness.

My mind degraded with event after event showing me the cruel way of this world. I would take blades and cut my arms in hopes that the blood from my life would siphon away and leave my pain in its place here on earth. I would get to the next level of attempting to die by hanging myself or swallowing my mental health medication in mass amounts. In and out of the psychiatric ward was my life for many years.

One day, as I thought about my life; I felt if I could just be "normal" I could get past all I had survived since the breaking of my family. I had settled into an apartment and sought work to make money for the improvement I desired to regain from the memories of home. That time that built my foundation of life still resonated within. I put my efforts into obtaining a job.

I met my first wife when I started work at a local factory. It had been so long since I felt important to someone. She was driven, had tenacity in her ethics of life. She asked me to move in almost immediately after our love grew. I went blindly willing to believe her love was real. I found out she had become pregnant after a few months went by. Excited I asked her hand in marriage.

We were set to get married and I was feeling empowered at that point. I drove the feelings of sadness away through her nights of holding each other felt so good. I was with someone who loved me. She was going to be my wife, the mother to my first child. The unthinkable happened two days before our wedding day.

I was getting prepared for the day, and she came out of the bathroom with the look of sadness on her face. She informed me she was bleeding, and it was obvious that she was miscarrying our child. In a panic rush of events, I lost my first child, lost my job, and lost my hope. The months after our wedding (we married despite our loss) our relationship disintegrated into the air. Silent and unseen to me my wife and I were to break apart.

I was thrust into despair once again. I blamed myself for her leaving. I couldn't hold it together long enough to show I was going to be strong and guide our marriage toward a better future. She left and I lost my way once again. I dove into alcohol and drugs to numb the pain I endured. Loosing was a repetitive occurrence up to that point and it was my fault. I had failed my wife and my unborn child. I drove her to another with my pain.

Time passed after she left, many events in that time caused my family and friends to view my madness firsthand. I would see events happening and the meaning behind it all. I stayed up late at night talking to spirits of unseen origin. Maybe it was just my connection to my childhood dreams. I could not determine what I was experiencing in that time.

I saw destructive behaviors from the foundation of society. Self-mutilating behavior affecting the people in my path all around, but I could not utter a word of it and be considered sane. I walked around seeing the influences that spelled doom for the love I was taught as a child. People succumb to the absence of reason-ability, the hollow laws of self-image and self-importance.

Parents were forced to work long days to come home and ignore their needs for creating healthy children. Men and women drawn into themselves forgetting they brought a tiny human being into this world. Drugs, sexual obscenities', violence, and a total disregard for health and safe passage for their young. Trends meant for self-expression utilized for gaining control. Interests made into money games. Families destroyed for no reason but selfish greediness. The very institute for health monetizing our bodies to fill corporate banks.

As it went, I dove back into the numbness of oblivion felt through alcohol and other poisons. I partied with my close friends into many late mornings. It went well for a little while until I met my second lover in life. She was to be the mother of my first child. I was changed forever with those words the day she approached and said them to me, " I am pregnant."

I saw my chance awaiting me yet again to be a father and creating a family would follow soon. Excited, I went to work. I worked and after my first son was born, I decided to be the best I could for him. Like my childhood family life, I was going to provide, protect, and guide my child through this madness I saw in the world I helped to bring him into.

Wasn't long until I realized my family was in for a struggle. My child was born in a time of my life I had not yet fully grasped the reality of separate values. His mother was young, and I feel as if she became aware of her obligation to our family as secondary to her desire for reinforcement of escaping everyday life. Drugs, alcohol, sexual expression all permeated her actions and choices.

Many nights after our marriage vows were declared, she would go out to gatherings. She would leave for days at a time, and I would wait for a call or for her to come home. She flaunted herself to men for attention all the while expecting me to do work to keep a home. I saw more and more people show up at our door looking for a party. Any attempt at purging them diffused by her reason.

Stability would falter at every attempt I made toward it. Objection in every attempt for the sense of connection she felt with these peers. After a year and a half of consistency in her disregard forming a truth to me of where I would be ; the day arrived when she made her break from us.

The months that followed ensured I would know that the family unit we were attempting to be was gone. At first, my son's mother made it clear she was happier with another man. I was not as enthused about her decision. I had to face it; my family was my son and me. It wasn't a year when there was a child growing in my son's mother. It was hers and the man she left me for.

One day I was waiting for them to bring my son to my apartment. It was winter at the time and the parking lot in front was icy. I watched as her boyfriend struggled to back out; sliding on ice he tried to back out only to get stuck. I walked up to the front of his truck and pushed to release his truck tires from slipping. His eyes widened with confusion.

At that moment I had decided to assist them; it occurred to me he was not going to leave my son's life. Not any time soon with his child and my son's mother; locked into building a family of their own. It was then I felt it was better to know this guy, rather than hate him for a decision he likely hadn't known affected my life so much.

After that day I opened my mind and began to get to know and be friends with the man I will identify as Tim. It was easy to do when I realized the situation between him and my former wife and my first son. I saw a guy who was just trying to be happy. He was good to my son. He would tell me of events and conversations he had with my son. He connected with Bruce and it settled my heart to know there was someone who was willing to reach him. To engage and mentor a young child who had only innocence on his side.