I retired in 2013, telling my wife I wanted to write a book. Then I didn't even try. In December 2022 we had just returned from her brother's funeral and I wrote a poem for my sister-in-law titled The Empty Chair. My wife and she were both very moved by it and said I should think about writing. When I said "Some day" my wife reminded me that tomorrow isn't guaranteed, and life is too short to keep saying someday. She said either stop talking about it or sit down and do it.
That's when I started writing, beginning with a Memoir, thinking it best to start with a topic I knew something about. Then the whole Covid controversy came into my head, and I had to get it down on paper (in a Word doc.), so I wrote The Year of the Rat. While writing "Rat" I had an idea for a Private Investigator that failed as a cop but was able to stumble over significant cases and have big wins and I began writing my Blake Franklin Investigations series in January. The first one was finished three weeks later, and the ideas kept coming into my head. I either had to write or suffer an overload of words in my head. Blake Franklin is a manifestation of the failures and setbacks in my life, feeling like I always wanted to do more, have a greater impact, and help more people realize their dreams. Like Blake, I always believe the "good guys" should win. They should never finish last and they certainly should not lose the girl to the bad boys.
This poem is the one that started my writing career. I hope readers will enjoy it and love the characters my mind has brought to life.
The Empty Chair
Doing common things in town and at home
Simply because I’m now really on my own
Grocery store runs, and filling the car with gas
Dry cleaners, bakery, or other daily tasks
May seem to others like an ordinary feat
But they don’t talk to the empty seat.
Walks on a beach where once two shadows
Connected hands, pants rolled, in the shallows
Concerts, movies, restaurants, bars
Sitting on the front porch, or riding in a car
So many friends that we use to go meet
Have no words to fill the empty seat.
The comfort I find in words written in red
When sleep eludes me as I lay in my bed
I open the cover of His well-worn Book
Looking for answers for all He took
I thank God for those who still surround me
My daughter, her children their love will ground me
Taking on challenges never before attempted
My love, my helper, his lifetime preempted.
My sister and brother and those who live far
Their love unconditionally helps heal the scar
Of losing the one who made us complete
Family gallantly trying to fill the empty seat.
A wound so fresh time has yet to overcome
Eventually all stages of grief, one by one
Will weigh on my shoulders until they depart
Having hurt and healed my broken heart
With God and my family, I know I’ll defeat
The pain I associate with the empty seat.
