Ain’t no sunshine when she’s gone It’s not warm when she’s away Ain’t no sunshine when she’s gone And she’s always gone too long Anytime she’s goes away
Wonder this time where she’s gone Wonder if she’s gone to stay Ain’t no sunshine when she’s gone And this house just ain’t no home Anytime she goes away
And I know, I know, I know, I know I know, I know, I know, I know, I know I know, I know, I know, I know, I know I know, I know, I know, I know, I know I know, I know, I know, I know, I know I know, I know Hey, I ought to leave young thing alone But ain’t no sunshine when she’s gone, whoa, whoa
Ain’t no sunshine when she’s gone Only darkness every day Ain’t no sunshine when she’s gone And this house just ain’t no home Anytime she goes away
Anytime she goes away Anytime she goes away Anytime she goes away
I’m tired of living with my wife across town being abused by the person that made her early years in Raleigh a nightmare at times. Those nightmares are there more than not at this point in Viva’s life. Aimee is doing her best with the 70×70 that Christ told us as an example of long suffering.
God bless
P.S. We miss you Timothy!
P.S.S A Female in the house had an accident which required the Horry Paramedics to assist. What wonderful fellows. God bless.
It’s actually Anthony Fauci’s 90th day not in jail or hanging from a tree for murdering my brother, Timothy Cochran.
Viva is a raving lunatic stealing my wife from me so she can have a human to torture until they die like she has done to four other humans in her life. She’s basically demon possessed.
Aimee is miserable having to deal with it 24/7/365. Because every time she tries to call me or visit, the beast attacks and presses every raw/worn-out button on Aimee and sets her off with more of life’s pain and misery. It’s sad to be trapped here looking after my two mentally failing parents. Mother laid in the bed all day and still hasn’t gotten up because Father waits on her feeding her, bringing her drink and ignoring the festering cesspool the mattress has become since Christmas when they arrived unplanned for forever. The dogs require as much attention as the parents less the floor is swamped with Maggie’s crap and piss. Which in turn causes the other two to piss on her messes to prove they are the male of the bitch creating the pile/puddle.
And through it all, stfc wants me to grind that “game” out for 15 fucking hours straight.
Here is the latest from poor Tracy and the girls. I miss him too greatly. I so want to call and have someone to talk to about this current scene, but I have to let Christ know and ask him to let Timothy know. But thank goodness there are no tears in Heaven so they say.
It has been three months since Timothy, my “sweet”, has died. It still feels foreign to type those words, to check off “widow” in a little box to update my accounts…I always think, “How is this even my life now?” With Mother’s Day tomorrow, such a blessed day, a beautiful spring day to come…and yet. The absence seems to grow heavier, more acute, and yet foggier too. I still wonder where he is, still wonder what our life would be like if that awful Sunday morning in February had never happened. My thoughts then turn to the news we received a few days before February 10th…news I kept from CaringBridge just until, or so I thought, we received an actual prognosis, a time frame, more information. Nuanced bits of updates that I had gotten days before Timothy was extubated, slowly returning to the man I married in so many miraculous ways. News I was able to stumble through, gasping and questioning mentally and spiritually through those long lonely days in the ICU…Timothy was diagnosed with a very aggressive brain cancer, Glioblastoma. It, most likely, would have carried a sentence of maybe 12-18 months to live. This would be in spite of chemo and radiation which we were already starting to anticipate, the logistics of caring for him and what would happen to our girls when I would have to focus so much of my time, not with them and on them, but on their failing “hero” dad. The financial worries, the stress of not knowing how my stubborn independent non-compliant stoic sarcastic man would respond to medication and limitations and indecency and invasion of chemicals that could very much make the short – so short!! – time he had remaining horrible and debilitating. While I knew he would never be able to go back to work at his school home…heck, would not be able to even drive himself as he would be on seizure precautions (a very real threat), he died never fully knowing this would be the case. That is such a balm to my wounded soul. So, when I refer to God’s kindnesses, that is a very big one on my very long list. He could have had a seizure while driving – he had just spent that Saturday – his/our last day of “normal”, in Roanoke with the girls. He commuted 40 minutes west on I-64 to Alleghany High School every work morning and evening. So many kindnesses…even in the midst of horror and sadness and loss. It is only by faith that I am able to grasp these threads of comfort even now, some days seeing them more clearly than others.
What I never knew about grief: that you are always two halves of a person…the “before” and the “after” person. Time has both stopped and keeps moving forward regardless of how I feel, of what I must do. That in one second your life changes and you are both overwhelmed by paperwork and “to do” lists and stress and thoughts of “why me?”…to praising the God who gives and takes away. That in spite of how much time that passes I will always miss him, always think of something to share with him, always regret not asking him more of how I should hold things together once he was no longer here. He was the only one with whom I shared our honeymoon, who was with me when both girls were born (thanks, Miss Molly, for being born so precipitously in our bedroom and to our Piper Peanut for keeping us on our toes that April Fool’s Day!), when 9/11 happened and so many normal boring days of our 27 wedded years. We were married for 15 years before we were blessed with our babies – so many years for two lives to become entangled.
If I’ve learned anything it is this – prepare. Buy life insurance, cancer insurance – if you need it, you will be so so thankful God has provided. Know your accounts even if you do not handle your daily bills. Don’t assume you will always be healthy. Keep all your important papers, passwords together. Have that weird surreal conversation about wishes of the end-of-life, funerals, burial vs cremation, wills and beneficiaries. I was so wrapped up with taking one moment at a time, with thoughts of “Let’s get through this hurdle” that I never got to ask Timothy so many things. You always hear people say that life is precious, can change in an instant…it feels almost cliche to write. So easy to think, “I can’t imagine…!” and in the next breathe say quietly to yourself, “Glad that is not my life.” Most death is unexpected…if you think about it. Even on hospice…it is almost always too soon, never wanted. Maybe you are tired of seeing your loved ones hurt, detiorate, change – but you are never ever prepared for the after. You will never go back to the “pre” you. You will always be missing that puzzle piece whether you are spouse, sibling, in-law, friend, co-worker or neighbor. That piece (peace) has vanished and will never be replaced.
On this eve of my 1st Mother’s Day without my children’s father, I feel so many emotions – hope, fear, emptiness, new opportunities, strength and need and loss. We are still searching for our next step, each day putting what seems like excruciating baby steps into our next chapter. So many of you still serve me, surprise me, support me, in little and overwhelmingly big ways. Each one so appreciated. So many prayers still said when I find myself unable to mutter anything at all to the God of heaven and earth. Thank you so much. As difficult as each day continues to be, despite the ways my life and roles have changed against my will, with the way ahead still murky – we have until August when our lease runs out to find a safe new more affordable pet-friendly home – I cannot fathom my way through it all without you, my supportive community that surrounds us so tenderly. God has richly blessed us, putting each one of you in place in preparation for February, for today and beyond.
I will close with a few of my favorite verses that I am holding close right now:
Romans 15:13
May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that by the power of the Holy Spirit you may abound in hope.
Hebrews 6:19
We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure.
**A note before these last verses – if you have never been to the chapel of Carilion Rockbridge Community Hospital on the 3rd floor, I challenge you to go. My visit brought these verses to mind so vividly!**
Psalm 121:1-2
I lift up my eyes to the hills. From where does my help come? My help comes from the Lord, who made heaven and earth.
Walk in wisdom toward those who are outside, redeeming the time. Let your speech always be with grace, seasoned with salt, that you may know how you ought to answer each one.
# # #
Up before the break of dawn to let the dogs out back with the cat as I drink that first cup of coffee.
Second cup of coffee as we watch the 06:30 school bus drive by our house to take the elementary children off to their school. Check the weather for the day to see if leaving the dog food out of the shed is ok for the next 14 hrs.
Third cup was still outside enjoying the sunrise that is unseen from the backyard, but the sky has lite up and the roar from Hwy 501 and East Cox Ferry Road traffic hides the birds’ calls.
Work – you are not allowed as an employee to mention anything of the campus without censorship less you are fired. Class of 2025’s final day.
Aimee has to leave to live with her mother again due to the hospital (for profit – could give a rat’s arse about the patients) needing the bed from a 80+ year old woman that has had two botched operations and another fall and break of her right hip. Aimee is her slave at the house where there are no witnesses to Viva’s actions, treatment, and 24/7/365 abuse of Aimee verbal and mental. Oh and the mother has no problems calling the police (via 911) that she is in fear of her life from the intruder (her only child) that is not aiding her every wish and whim. Seems we cannot get any nursing/care service to work with Viva due to everyone refusing to work with her. Is she thankful for the sacrifice of Aimee and I? That’s a “FUCK NO!”
I walked into the house that used to be our rest and refuse from the cruel world to step into a men’s urinal hosted by a bus stations in the deep South mid-Summer heat and humidity. They do not smell it here anymore than they smelled it in the dungeon we got them to move out of. I haven’t even gotten through the doorway with the night’s groceries and Father is asking if I have clippers to cut the 1/4″ of hair on the back of his neck that has been a MAJOR point of contention these last 3 days. “Here, let me go get that one for you,” with groceries in hand I head into the bedroom, and into the master bathroom grabbing the clippers from under the sink. I’ve learned since they showed up at Christmas that when Father has his mind on something – to hell with everything else in the world. It’s just easier to take care of the matter you can and move on with your life.
The funny is when I handed him the clippers he asked, “are they electric or battery?”
I replied, “no these are gas powered super clippers,” with a smirk on my face which was replied to with a smirk of “smartass” from Father. He claimed, “its a legit question,” to which we both smile and moved on. Now would I give you a tool that wasn’t working without fixing it? Oh the confidence shown.
Ohmygoodness walk in the door: (Older Gentleman comes out of bedroom where he was napping. Slinks over to backdoor, taps quietly on the door, Jack is alerted and runs for the door, we cannot see who opens the backdoor a tiny bit for his “buddy” to dash in the doorway.) (Rain Clouds cover the shining Sunlight causing the backyard to darken) (Daniel, Einstein, Maggie, and Luci come inside the house) “DID YOU SEE THIS PIECE OF MAIL THAT CAME TODAY,” demands the older gentleman holding the letter from the IRS Daniel put on the counter after coming in the door from work prior to going outside?!?
“Dude you don’t have to yell. Let me go to the bathroom and we can fix/address/discuss that letter. That’s why I asked you about it in my head bringing it home,” Daniel exclaims. (Daniel exits Stage Left – Older Gentleman walks off Right Stage)
(Daniel knocks on closed door in the hallway) “Hey, you awake? Let’s talk,” Daniel states as he opens the door to see the Older Gentleman laying on the bed with the IRS envelope in his hand and Jack staring at the open doorway.
[Dining Room/Computer Office] “Did you see this,” Older Gentleman inquires.
“I didn’t open it you did, but yeah I was wondering what it was about,” says Daniel.
“There was a $137 mistake on the filing,” the Older Gentleman began, “and they are going to send a refund. THIS ADDRESS IS WRONG! THE . . .”
“Whoa a sec, let me show you this,” interupting is Daniel as he reaches across the seated fellow and grabs the computer mouse, clicks on a window on the screen, and releases the device as he stands up. “See that 1040? This is the address we used to file your taxes and the Social Security changes have not been acknowledged yet, and I’ve told you since Friday it’s getting near the end of the 30 day window to get the mail that I’m hoping the USPS forwards, but the Social Security may have it marked, ‘NO FORWARD,’ I have no idea since we didn’t have to alert the government all the times we have moved in the past.”
“I’m going to miss any $10,000 check they may send me without my address changed,” the Older Gentleman explains.
With irritation beginning to show on Daniel’s face, he states, “We’ll get the address changed and the USPS will bloody forward the damn mail for at least six months.”
(The Older Gentleman arises, and exits Stage Right in a “huff”.)
[ENDS SCENE ONE]
[SCENE TWO]
(Zooming in from behind on the left handed side of Daniel facing the 36′ monitor with an IRS Form 8822 .pdf in clear vision. Within the boxes on the .pdf we see the names, Daniel’s head blocks the SSN fields, the old address and the new address boxes filled out.)
“CAN YOU COME AND PROOF THIS 8822 ‘CHANGE OF ADDRESS’ IRS FORM,” Daniel yells?
(door opens off Stage Right) “This will be the wrong form, or you picked the wrong one,” the Older Gentleman gruffly says as he walks over to the computer and sits down in the chair in front of the monitor.
As the Older Gentleman reads the 8822 .pdf form on the monitor, he excitedly complains, “my Social Security Number is wrong it’s not 88888!”
Looking at the monitor as he reaches for the mouse to move the cursor to the field boxes the view of the numbers other than the offending ‘88888’ are blocked, “oh my ‘8’ button was sticking there a second.”
Opening another pdf in another window, Daniel says, “Look here it’s fixed.” “DON’T CLOSE IT I’VE NOT FINISHED,” the Older Gentleman snarkingly blurts out.
“LOOK YOU CAN STOP BITCHING TO ME, I’M FUCKING GETTING THIS DONE ASAP,” lowering his tone Daniel continues, “just as I’ve done every request since December. I come in and (swiftly kicking into the air) WHAM another kick-in-the-balls to get shit done!”
[END SCENE TWO]
[SCENE THREE]
“Well there you go! THANK YOU SO MUCH MR.Computer Expert,” emfactacly stated by the Older Gentleman as he gets up from the computer and exits Stage Right. Trailing off we don’t understanding what he is saying exiting the Stage, “murmur (etc).”
(Older lady suffles onto Stage Right and continues toward the recliner chair facing the television (aka “Smart TV”) and sits down to watch “Dancing in the Rain” on TCM on the wide screen above the fireplace)
“HaHaHaHaHaaHaa…” (Camera pans back fading to black as “It’s a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World” plays on the television and the Older Lady laughs hysterically.
Went to lunch today with the “boy” (that are grown men now). We enjoyed El Patio’s on Hwy 501 S. They talked of “Eskimo Brothers” and “Alabama Anger (somethings)” only puke worthy conversation imho. You do not want to look those up on “Urban Dictionary.” Yep these are our well paid professionals.
I actually finished lunch first for the first time in ages. I had nothing to bring to this conversation, which I guess is the point of having me along on a lunching. I’m not too much fun to bring to anything anymore.
Mother and Father take most of the evening now. My wife is separated from me to take care of her “needy bitch-from-hell.”
Happy start of Spring 2025. It was sunny till I finally got out of the cube at work and then it was cloudy and rainy. Bummer no sunning for me today.
Trump signed an EO to get rid of the horrible Department of Education which has produced massive tax waste and seen results of 60% of 8th graders can’t do math or English and 4th graders have a 40% not able to read at all. We have gone from the top to the bottom since President Carter created the Department of Education.
Praise God! It’s DEAD, now we need Congress to make it lasting.
Thanks to an Angie Jones “love letter” demanding I pay for the crappy schools run by crooks in Horry County I couldn’t afford any Guinness this Patty’s Day.
Ah, the beautiful parallel between the love slave owners had for their slaves and the modern-day political landscape. Who would have thought that after fighting a war that claimed over 600,000 lives to end slavery, we’d find ourselves right back in the loving embrace of our benevolent overlords?
But this time, they’ve gotten even more creative! Instead of outright owning us, they’ve concocted a delightful array of taxes to keep us in our place. From the ever-popular “income tax” and “property tax” to the more exotic “air tax,” “living tax,” and “buying food tax,” there seems to be no limit to their ingenuity. And let’s not forget the classic “sales tax,” which gives them the opportunity to tax our money not once, not twice, but at least three times! Brilliant!
And don’t be fooled by the so-called Republicans, or as they should be more accurately called, RINOs (Republicans In Name Only). They’re just as eager to profit off your hard labor as their Demoncrat counterparts. Why let a little thing like principles get in the way of lining their pockets with your well-earned cash?
It’s truly heartwarming to see how far we’ve come since the days of slavery. Now, instead of being owned by a single master, we have the privilege of being financially drained by a whole host of them, all under the guise of “taxation.” Isn’t progress wonderful?
Slaves circa 1800s
Oh, isn’t it just wonderful how those absolute geniuses (id10Ts) keep getting re-elected after brilliantly deciding to cram thousands of homes onto a measly two-lane road? I mean, who wouldn’t love the idea of 4,000 additional vehicles clogging up the already limited space, all thanks to their exceptional family planning skills? And let’s not forget the masterminds behind the infrastructure development in Horry County, South Carolina – truly an inspiration to us all. It’s such a privilege to hand over a whopping 20% tax on every dollar spent to these intellectual giants. Honestly, how could we ever thank them enough for their invaluable contributions to society?
Ah, the joys of living in a neighborhood where the only lifeline to basic necessities like groceries, fuel, cooked food, and even places of worship is a single, narrow two-lane road! And let’s not overlook the sheer brilliance of having this vital route rely on yet another cramped two-lane roadway to connect to the main highways. Who needs efficient infrastructure when you can have an exhilarating driving experience filled with anticipation and frustration?
But wait, there’s more! These so-called “highways” are nothing more than glorified parking lots, adorned with a dazzling array of stoplights that seem to magically appear every tenth of a mile. And just when you thought it couldn’t get any better, they’re not even synchronized! Genius! Why let traffic flow smoothly during peak hours when you can create a thrilling stop-and-go adventure for everyone?
And for the cherry on top, we have the distinct honor of financing the campaigns of 13 esteemed decision-makers who generously approve these new developments. After all, why shouldn’t the builders, sellers, and financiers be rewarded with thousands of dollars to pad their re-election Golden Parachute funds? It’s not like we expect our hard-earned tax dollars to be used for trivial matters like improving the very infrastructure that keeps our community functioning. No, no, clearly, there are far more important things to prioritize – like ensuring those 13 folks can continue their reign of excellence in urban planning.
October 2021 Timothy V. Cochran Move Day – Two brothers together
1:58 is a spot of Timothy
There will be a much more updated video history coming soon. I’ve got to edit/upload them then post.
Timothy and family were moving to a new gig more Northwest from this ‘ole farm house. The pasture surrounding had cows and horses. Timothy told me the girls would fee them through the fence and got a hoot out of it. I know what that’s like.
This was all when Timothy and Tracey were just getting the lowdown and practices of home schooling their children. The girls are so blessed for all that dedication. Of note, Timothy seemed to never stop amazing me on the fabulous places he and Tracey found for the family.
