eli_f (eli_f) wrote in tellthetruth, @ 2018-10-08 12:54:00 |
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The path of his life had been decided for him long before his conception and though Eli chose to believe that every choice was his own, he was also a man of faith that could not argue with the knowledge that something greater beyond his control often times took the reigns. The world was not black and white and though he often times wished that it were, he knew the truth that it never could be, and that life was often times not fair. Today for Eli was a remembrance of just how unfair life could be and as he stood before the grave sight of his cousin's first born, a child no older than eighteen with aspirations to do so much good in this world that he signed up, and lost his life for a war that continued long after his death. He wondered if this had all been planned and written in the stars as well. "Hey Jason," Eli whispered, kneeling down before the grave site and touching the headstone gently as he remembered the young man's life. "It's been seventeen years since the war began and it's still carrying on without you... I’m still carrying on, but we miss you everyday." Drawing a breath and rubbing at the stubble on his jaw and chin from days unshaven Eli stilled the waterworks that always threatened to overpower him with every crashing memory of the life lost from his family tree. The clouds were rolling in and the day was shifting to night when Eli finally rose from his crouching position and touched the headstone once more, "tell the old man I said hey..." he remarked with a bittersweet smile and walked towards the exit of the cemetery, towards his bike. The passing of Jason's father at an early age meant that the young boy had become a son of sorts to Eli and as he rode towards his favorite diner for a late meal with the oncoming of night closing in around him Eli pondered how much violence his own father’s life held. Tom Freeman had been a man of honor full to brim with morals and little education beyond the pages of well worn library books. He had seen war first hand and returned to his small Connecticut home in hopes of doing some good, but in the end it meant joining up with his war buddies and becoming vigil antis in their own right. Eventually the small garage where Eli had learned to take his first steps and tinker with both motorcycle and cars of all makes and models fell beneath the pressure of big business chains that rolled into town offering deals that the family owned shop could not and eventually the motorcycle gang that Tom had created with his brothers in arms led to one shady deal after another until eventually Eli’s father was sentenced to a life sentence for a crime that he had unintentionally committed during a last ditch effort to salvage his business and save his family. How many lives had the man played a part in ending? Eli prayed silently for the forgiveness of his father and the man’s friends and for understanding while searching for a balance in life. Or was that simply just a lie that we as humans fed ourselves early on from birth? Could there really ever be peace or would be there always be a need for violence in order to appreciate the calm before a storm? Was the reason for war a lack of human connection, an understanding that could lead to compassion? Were we really incapable of peace on as a mass whole? As Eli pulled into the driveway he thought of Ghandi and Nelson Mandella, such men capable of peace and though they influenced many, their power was not enough. As Eli grew and matured he began to distance himself from his father's lifestyle and though he loved his mother and older sister, Connecticut was not a place that he often times would return to. His mother eventually remarried when Eli was a freshman in college and later the newlyweds moved back to her childhood home, a state known for peaches and southern bells. With a good five years between he and his sister Eli was accustomed to the distance that stretched between the siblings, she had her own life, and eventually her own family, and though she enjoyed Connecticut with her dentist husband and white picket fences, she was the type who seldom reached out to her brother, even during holidays and birthdays. Tom Freeman had passed away while behind bars and though the memory of him was forever tainted by his tragic downfall, Eli could not forget the man the way that his older sister had. Though Sarah would prefer her father to have died somewhere in war, Eli was honest and frank about the fact that his father was simply a man who struggled in life and made one too many mistakes. With his own garage and a passion for motorcycles Eli could easily draw parallels to his father, but he refused to let history repeat itself. Colorado was his home now and had been for over fifteen years now. The scent of home cooking hit him before he ever stepped foot through the front door with the warmth of things cooked in butter and served with a piping hot cup of coffee. The zest of it all wafted around him, wrapping him in an aromatic embrace, and helping to soothe his weary soul as he slid into an empty red leather clad booth boasting mini jukeboxes next to the salt and pepper shakers, if you managed to snag a booth with a working jukebox you were a lucky one. Eyeing the menu Eli stifled a yawn and considered breakfast for dinner or a hamburger and home fries just as his favorite waitress stepped up to the table, notepad in hand. |