Gary Sackett

~ Expressing Gratitude and Love ~

Positive Messages

Comfort Zone


I would like to take the time to say THANK YOU to all that post positive messages. I recently viewed some homecoming videos for soldiers and it zoomed me back in time when our son Tharon was crossing the oceans for our country. What makes it even more special is that he is comfortably sleeping in our spare bedroom visiting us from Illinois, transitioning to civilian life, making the salty tears of joy so sweet.

So easy to forget that these homecomings still happen, so easy to forget that many soldiers didn’t have love ones waiting for them and so easy to forget some tears were not for joy on their return.

My social commentary is simple. We, as a society, have become numb.

Thank you to those who stir the human emotions by example, daring to live outside the norm, beating your own drum, taking risks to do something greater. To those who Dream Big, Use Kind Words, Say I Love You, Say Please and Thank You, Being Grateful, Helping Others, Being Silly, Keeping Calm and Carrying On.

Have an Awesometastic day, week, month, year…Life


Colorful Bus Tour

The tour bus was filled of excited people, 30-40, I didn’t get a head count.

The mixture— a bachelor party group of guys who took time away from their dungeons and dragons convention to drink to the ye olde songs of yesteryear, making sure their sacrifice was sufficiently…let’s say hammered. Another grouping was a gaggle of women supporting their elder with a birthday celebration. Later at our first stop we were informed that they were of the LBGT community…like we didn’t know. And then there was my group, a small family, a 26 year old, heavily tattooed, recently out of the Army, son. My wife of 29 years, (our anniversary was this date, though we had our dinner nights before) a professional massage therapist who has embraced her calling of assisting people in this plane and others, yes, a psychic medium and there’s me— a 51 year old white man, or caucasian or former european immigrant or just a person who is embracing writing to express himself. Our driver was my same age, striking up a conversation prior to everyone loading in, finding out we were born in the same year, loves living out in the country, hunting and fishing on his 15 acres, rides Harley-Davidson motorcycles, genuinely smiles— must be my doppleganger.

The tour, Southern Beer Tours, took us to three local microbreweries so that we could immerse ourselves into the local flavors, mixing kindred spirits together in the quest to drink beer, socialize and have a safe fun time.

We intermingled here and there, though the D&D group was working hard to keep the bachelor sufficiently over the BAC level. He sure was young looking, younger as he visited the restroom on the first stop to purge the venom that his friends helped him ingest. It was at this time that the bus unanimously stated if he puked on the bus, the women would kick his ass. Our tour guide chirped in at this point and added the the clean up fee was $250.00. He held it in.

Our conversations were mainly with the women’s group, the lesbians, yes I said it. I’ve said it before, I’ve have known some. “Some”, like it’s an affliction, a disease. Oh, man I’m going to hell, I hung out with “them”.

I was given compliments on my son from “them”. It was stated he was “genuine”, “loving”, “he was a good kid” and “we did a good job raising him” were some of the statements. What parent wouldn’t want compliments like that!

It was our choice to raise him that way, be himself, search and question, don’t accept the status-quo, to live his life because it’s his. That it is alright to feel from the heart and look through the human bullshit. Supporting him from a distance, as he maneuvers through this thing called life.

We were invited after the tour to join “them” at the continuation of the elders party at a bar. We had dinner, shot some pool and made our way to our home.

I woke up this morning, looked in the mirror and noticed that I didn’t have any lesions, pocks or any signs of sickness. Made my way to the computer and confirmed friend requests from “them”. I didn’t explode when I pressed the button to accept “them” as friends.

The hell I’m living in is one of being in a society of intolerance with those who choose to live the top ten lines below:

Despising – Miserable
Vindictive – Evil
Condemning – Hopeless
Disdainful – Tragic
Punitive – Frightening
Denying – Disappointing
Vengeful – Antagonistic
Indifferent – Demanding
Permitting – Feasible
Enabling – Satisfactory
Inspiring – Hopeful
Merciful – Harmonious
Wise – Meaningful
Loving – Benign
One – Complete
All-Being – Perfect
Self – Is

In all branches of this tree of life there are good people and bad people, it’s just a question of where you want to be.

I didn’t get to spend any more time with the bus driver, my doppleganger. I want to, maybe I’ll look him up— he was black man, african-american or former immigrant.

Burying Brett

On Tuesday I will bury my brother next to my Mom and Dad. So, I’m reflecting, grabbing bits and pieces of memories. You hear from others, from movies plots, that at times you can’t remember faces and places of the the person that was once here in the flesh. Stories are shared and memories come back— some don’t.

Your senses take over, from sights to sounds, places and songs, smells and terminology. Little things that pop in your head to think of that person.

I am of the belief that when those thoughts come into your head, the little pauses that happen to bring back a memory of this person, it’s a contact from them. A little tug, push, nudge, tickle, smile from them letting you know that they are alright… and you will be too. If you want to call them your angels, your guides or whatever, call them that. It is your relationship envelop yourself with the knowing they have moved to a place to where, at some time you will go.

In and out of solemn times is what you experience, grief stages. From happy to sad in an instant, smiles to tears in seconds. Some chose to hold it in, others put this time on their sleeves. There is NO right or wrong with this. It just IS.

When people talk to you remember this is bringing up “their” personal stuff. It’s their memories of people they lost or their experience of not losing anyone to this date. Humans, interesting creatures, able to twist anything to their ego benefit. And at this time it strikes a lot of fear into them, of their own demise. If you fear death, then every ounce of your being will fight against the natural flow.

I have been fortunate to have been with many who have passed on, many at so-called unfortunate endings. At that moment of the last human breath. At a certain time, I may have not said it was fortunate, now I know that it was my absolute privilege to be with one who is transitioning to another place. I was not with my brother physically when he passed, but I knew something was going on and he was making the decision to move out of his physical form.

It is time for you to feel, use this time to connect with those who die because there is only one thing on the other side. True untainted love.

All the other stuff your ego is putting out there in front of you is utter garbage, human bullshit that you have cluttered your life with. Take this time, this connection, this moment that happens all over this planet to feel the spark, the instant that one transitions on. Their realization that all there is…is pure love.

With all the strife going on in the world, that has happened over and over again, maybe, just maybe, we can feel this emotion on a daily basis, if we choose.

Burying my brother
flesh and bones
existing no more
laying him next to
Dad and Mother
flashes of memories
polaroid pictures
of good times and bad
take me to places
we once danced
laughter and tears
situations conquered
pain and grief
made in my mind
no more

Grateful for Brett

I started this some days ago, not knowing that I would dedicate this to my brother who died today. Born with Cerebral Palsy, confined to a wheelchair, unable to speak. We were told he wouldn’t live past his early teens, he was 46.

I am grateful for—

waking up this morning
for every little, yet big thing around me
carpet fibers to the moon
dog hair to the sun
pine needles to the fire
birds chirping at the rivers edge
pollen in the wind

the air into my lungs
and out
creating sounds, forming words
to communicate
not just with eyes
groans or tears

to laugh, giggle
he did
does more now

the ability to move
my hands, my feet
to walk, to run
he is now

to feel pain
sometimes constant
free from it
now he is

an observer by birth
an observer in death
freedom was his mind
living slave to his body

to really know
to understand
what I am
grateful for…
knowing you
for everything I touch and that touches me
thank you
Brett Alan Sackett

Going to Church

So I’m raised to believe one way
raised up southern baptist style
and still recovering, my pun
my heart tells me different
so I search
dogmas to left
dogmas to the right

to question, to ask
deep meanings
feelings, thoughts
to those in the hierarchy
getting pat answers
script and opinions
viewpoints scattered
in the wind
depending on—
their personal whims

depending on where you live
the first question chirped
“where do you worship?”
I answer with…
“do you want a noun or verb!”
If I say my house, my car
walking in the woods
why do you frown
show me disdain
do you ask me if I pray
meditate or go
to that special place
do you invite me to
go to church
within four walls
stained glass windows
and the such
ceremony, incantations
readings and song
do you ask if I watch the words
they come off my tongue
do you ask me how I’m doing
truly listening to my answer

I let you speak
watching the words
tumble over your lips
are your eyes meeting mine
when you spout
rehearsed verbiage

do I feel you?
do I see you?

I will when…

your exuberance on your Sunday
moves you so
when I see it on Monday, Tuesday
on it goes
when you dance to hallelujah
moving to the beat
when your ghost that’s holy
dosen’t frighten you so

seeing is believing
so I’m told, as with
perception is reality
to others, good as gold

tenets, commandments
written all over the world
and yet we
rarely come together
from across the globe
blaming, shaming
kicking and screaming
crucifying a difference
on the same path we go
believing, faith
different than yours
hard or difficult
your soul knows

you want to follow
when you should lead
being a beacon
written so
conversations with God
wanting peace and love

your path is yours
walk proudly
examples to all
human doing to
human being
live your life

toils of humanity fade
when you turn inside
seeing the dancing children
hand in hand
colors and shapes
mean not

remembering who you are
admittance to the gates
free on earth
centered up
living your personal relationship
outside your walls