I put together an assortment of songs on a cassette tape that reminds me of him. His memory brings back the sadness of our loss and the joy of his nature, but it also makes me realize that nobody is going to live forever. And we will all leave this life the same way we came—with nothing. After Leland’s funeral I wondered about death and hoped that life does go on in another dimension and that perhaps I will again see him and my friends who have also passed.
A few days after Leland’s funeral, I stepped out of the shower and grabbed a fresh towel to wipe the steam off the mirror and dry my face. As I studied my reflection, I saw some of Leland’s features in my own face. My eyes welled up with tears because I was still sad that he was gone and realized that he was never coming back. When I composed myself, I studied the deep vertical and horizontal facial lines along with the hard look in my eyes. It all gave away bits of my character. I saw my youth disappearing and remembered every blunder that stained my character. I thought of all those guns I used to shoot. Then I thought of all the times I cleaned those guns and what would have happened if they hadn’t been taken care of. They would have aged, rusted and become a tarnished shooter. I knew I had problems. Was it years of worry, fear and rebellion that had left their marks, or was it anger? My real scars couldn’t be seen—they were hidden in the recesses of my mind.
I’d like to blame child abuse as the reason for all the problems in my life, but I know that would be untrue. We are all unique and try to do the best we can. I think at times everyone wishes they could turn back the clock and do things differently.
Fifty years had come and gone in what seemed like the blink of an eye. There is no turning back and the world continues to turn one day at a time no matter what happens. Like those who have gone before me I know someday I will understand the meaning of everything.
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The Tarnished Shooter Page 25
