My character is John, an everyman-type character who is working through the five stages of grief.

Stage 1: Denial John carries around his dad's urn as he goes through his regular, normal daily activities. Stage 2: Anger John gets into a fight with his sister, etc... all the while working on refinishing an antique desk that's been handed down in the family, and that Stage 5: Acceptance John finally completes.

John's adopted but doesn't know it and has to process and reconcile that as part of the grief process.

BTW - I'm new here, but old and softspoken IRL. I use writing to help me 'find my voice.'

Life Happens Because of Us

I remember when my daughter was born. How could I not.

The doctor handed her over to me wrapped tightly in the pink-and-blue striped hospital blanket, her skin yellowed from jaundice. At that moment she was rivaling my wife for the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.

This was Gemma. This was the daughter I longed for and fell in love with while reading Dr. Seuss and Eric Carle to my wife’s belly.

A month before, I stood stuck in Babies R’ Us as a first-time dad overwhelmed by the high shelves of baby products the marketing on the packages said I needed. I didn’t know. Who trusted me with this kid again? I didn’t know. I got it all because I wanted her to have what she needed. I wanted her to be safe.

In the delivery room Gemma had been crying the whole time, but stopped immediately as soon as the doctor gave her to me and I started talking to her. My wife was asleep, exhausted, but everyone in the room witnessed this, the obstetrician, two nurses, my-mother-in law. She remembered my voice. She knew she was safe.

But the color vanished from my mother-in-law’s face. Her joy transformed into worry because at that moment she saw what a loving, first-time dad at first glance could not. She saw that Gemma had Down Syndrome.

There is no plot to the story we all find ourselves in. And we can’t choose when we enter or when we leave. We are all written into the Grand Novel with just a few blank pages. Though few, our pages are important. They can’t be penned by Shakespeare or vicariously lived through your favorite streamer. Only you can write them.

So, how do you make the most of it?

We need to be the harbingers of our own life.

Life will happen to us, that we can’t control. But we can control how it impacts us. Understand life for the joy that it is and embrace it. Like I did with Gemma. Approach each day with intentionality, perseverance, and curiosity, and I promise you will look back proud of the pages you wrote, and finding the true secret of happiness lies in taking a genuine interest in all the details of daily life.

Gemma’s in middle school now, and her contagious joy immediately lifts your soul as soon as she smiles. And she’s always smiling. She loves ballet and Roald Dahl, she has a ravenous appetite for chocolate, and a great group of friends. She still rivals my wife as the most beautiful girl in the world, and there’s no one my mother-in-law loves more than “Gems”. She didn’t choose to have Down Syndrome but to her, that doesn’t matter. Because if you know Gemma, you know she’s a harbinger.

Yeah, life happens to us, but also, make life happen because of us.

This is a true story. What’s yours?

WHO MAKES THE LAW?

Clara woke up from her bed with a splitting migraine.

For five solid days, there was nothing but the clanging echoes of metal yelling out from John Humphrey’s barn.

A constant chorus of,

CLANG-CLANG

CLANG-CLANG

CLANG-CLANG

Well, Mrs. Humphrey had enough of it.

“John!” She shrills. “John, that’s enough!” Running into his shop with wild arms waving.

“I can’t take it anymore!!” She cupped hands over her ears, elbows out.

John’s lips move with no sound. The proud have forged a lie against me

John continues to work.

CLANG-CLANG

Clara steps towards the workbench and yells, “I’ve sent for Sheriff Carson to lock you away for disturbance of the peace!”

Their heart is as fat as grease; but I delight in thy law.

CLANG-CLANG

Clara slaps him hard across the cheek, “WHY AREN’T YOU LISTENING TO ME!?”

It is good for me that I have been afflicted; that I might learn thy statutes.

CLANG-CLANG

She’s had enough. Clara forcibly grabs John by the wrist to stop the banging, and a struggle begins. Fighting for control. Of the hammer, yes, but its not just about the hammer. They’ve been having spats for months now. The bruises and scratches on John’s body confirm it.

“JOHN! JOHN, LET GO!!”

Suddenly, Sherriff Carson bursts through the entryway of the barn, sliding on his boots and holding onto his Stetson. “What’s with all this commotion!”

John releases his grip on the hammer, “So glad you could make it, Sherriff.” John notes the Sherriff’s trousers and belt are undone and his shirt not entirely tucked in. “Boy, you sure did get here fast.”

The wicked have waited for me to destroy me: but I will consider thy testimonies.

The Sherriff with twang, “Law declares I need bring you in for assault against your wife and for disorderly conduct.”

“The law!?” John eye-rolls, “Whose Law? There is no law in the West! The ‘law’ that you, man, have created, is not GOD’S LAW. Your law is merely the consensus whim of the citizens, blown in today, and will be gone like a tumbleweed tomorrow.”

Depart from me, ye evildoers: for I will keep the commandments of my God.

“I made this specially for you.” John pats a steel-plated revolver at his waist, with the Sixth Commandment carved into the handle. And two bullets loaded into the chamber—one for each of them.

“Now, John.” Sherriff thrusts one palm straight out and the other goes to his own holster. “Think about this.”

Psalms 119.

Both men ready to fire. Both ready to enforce their law.

But Clara, quietly now behind John and with the hammer, brings the metal tool down onto John Humphrey’s skull with full force.

CLANG-CLANG

John’s body slumps onto the two large metal slabs that was his project for the past week. A statuesque Ten Commandments etched into iron and ready for display outside the Nevada County courthouse.