Everyone goes through tragedy sooner or later... It's inevitable. But the question isn't "What can we do to somehow undo the tragedy?"... the real mystery is in how we deal with that tragedy and how we let it affect the rest of our lives.
I am the type of person that believes that you pick your parents.
I am not religious, by any standard, but I am "Spiritual". I believe that we get what we originally signed up for. If you wanted to lead an "independant" life, you may end up raised in foster care. If you wanted a simple and stupid life, you may have been born to a rich upity coupe in Bel-Air.
Hunter picked me... I was young, in my senior year of High School, and having to deal with a pregnant ex-girlfriend at 17 was no picnic either, considering I found out after we went our sepearte ways.
Mentally I tried my damndest to prepare, and did a decent job of changing I must admit. I never got to know him because he died right after birth. His mother and I had drifted apart, so I'm not sure what happened, but I heard that an infection that she ended up with took him.
I knew that he would still come to me... I knew it in my heart. I even wrote a poem when I was 19 that stated this, which (I will paste into the end of this blog). The person whom he wanted to be his mother was all wrong. He waited until the right "mom" came along and he arrived promptly.
on 8-8-07, at 8:10am he was born, exactly 12 years and 8 minutes after the first Hunter Alexander was born (8-8-1995 8:02am). There is NO doubt that it is him. If you see the photos, it's the EXACT same face. He is my world, and I am able to raise him now.
My last trip to Oklahoma to go to his grave, I had a dream that I bumped into his mother, who was in turn stopping by to pay respects. She commented on the wreath and said she always wondered who brought that each year. It turns out that Hunter was right. She was still living in the town of Gore... That is where I would have been had Hunter lived in 1995. I would have stayed in Oklahoma to be with my son. I would have continued doing meth with all my friends, and I would not have any kind of career. I would not have gone to college on a "continuance" (due to my missing too many days my senior year because of the pregnancy and getting kicked out before I graduated). I would have no degree, no gorgeous house in phoenix, and I wouldn't have the perfect wife that I have now.
She wasn't meant to be Hunter's mother, and I was not meant to live that life. Things worked out the way they were supposed to. The way that they were meant to, for me and everyone involved, and I am sure for his mother as well.
My last two avatars have been pictures of him. He is gorgeous. He makes me what I am today. and I would kill any of you motherfuckers in a heartbeat for him. I would rip out a guys thorax and hang him with it if he hurt my boy. I would go to jail for life for him, and kill, or be killed, for him.
I thought someone would notice the reference to the '67 ford truck that I mentioned in my Cindy Jumper Blogs that I had in High School. I am sorry for the mislead... I believe things get written for a reason, and through a PM, I might've gotten a clue as to what that was... good luck to you "He who shall remain unnamed".
I am HunterDad and I hope you guys can forgive my writing skills... (and stop here if you don't like poetry from a sad 19 year old)
I feel you knocking at my door, I'll answer... I'm on my way. Though out of youth, we both want more, for our mistakes, we're asked to pay.
Your mom and I, our love had passed, before we got the news. I felt my hopes and dreams were dashed, and it was time to pay my dues.
From high school fun to parenthood, at such an early age, My abilities as a dad I would, from this point on be gauged.
The year was nineteen-ninety-five, the time is half-passed noon. Our innocence... for which we strive, taken far too soon.
At this time my mother called, crying, filled with pain. Out of the dark, my conscience crawled, just to end up, in the rain.
I failed to see the reason why, back then, but now I see. No longer will I sit and cry, for the crib, I found empty.
Years from now, I'll grow for you, with a love that will never stray. With strength and maturity, I grew, at last I feel, you're on your way.
Assurance that I'll hear your tune, when you come and knock again. Knowing then was far too soon, now its right around the bend.
So now I'll leave my porchlight on, and for your knock, I'll listen. I'll be here when you play your song, I have now, what then was missin.
One more task I ask of you, before we close this chapter. Is to leave a trail, so bright and true, for your bro soon following after.