Author: midnites_lyric

Storms are beautiful. My sons are beautiful. My sons are my storms. The aftermath of these storms is what becomes the ugliness. Ugliness in a way that does not take away the beauty, but rather dictates the life of the storm. The life of my sons.

Two storms, intertwining, whirling together, yet separate. One dissipated. One brewing – forever on the verge of breaking.

I predicted Storm Morgan with zero control of the significant disruptions taking place that became his end, and I cannot run for cover from Storm Logan. I have to brave him ~ or succumb. 

Trapped willingly because of my great love for these storms; my sons. I have seen these storms. Very vividly. I have watched them be strong. I have watched them weaken. Shifting between the stillness and the rage. And I have realized that I am not the eye. I am not the eye of either storm. I am not the calm in the middle. I, too, am a storm. The Mother storm. Spinning out of control. Losing my grasp on the moments. As hard as I have tried and continue to attempt to divert the harsh elements of my storms, I find myself powerless to their intensities. Suffering and battling my own. The damage has become so deep, connecting the remaining storm and myself, yet hindering the outcome, aiding the aftermath. More ugliness or maintained beauty?

I, too, want to dissipate; and yes, succumb. Yet be the endless eye for the remainder of my surviving storm’s path. 

Give me strength.

~mother of Logan & Morgan 12.1.16

I went to say goodbye to you. I was scared, anxious, nervous, unsettled. I cried all the way there. When I entered your room, I cried harder. I envisioned what I would entail. The reality was clearer than my vision. I sobbed. I knew I was not ready for this, but I knew more that I needed to see you. As I neared, my thoughts of Morgan came fast. Were you going to be cold when I held your hand? As he was? Figments came rushing of that day, like a sudden gust of wind propelling my thoughts at me. Too much to handle. 

I held your hand my friend. I held it more than once. I spoke softly to you. Reminiscing about Franklin. The crazy cassette tapes we made with those goofy sounds. You know, “plop plop pheewwww”! This will stick with me forever; sitting outside of the gymnasium windows with my tiny boom box recording ourselves. Laughing so hard that I am certain one of us probably pissed our pants! And Ty. Good ol’ Tyrone. Those were the fun young days. Then teen years. “Push It”. The parking lot at Club Soda or Adventure Inn. Singing it at the top of our lungs. And of course, getting in trouble, running away, skipping school. Not that these were good things at the time; but they were fun for us and memories none-the-less. Like the time we were with these two guys we knew. Stoned. The driver rear-ended another car and all we could do, though scared shitless, was laugh our asses off. The experimentations turned into addiction for you. For me? All I did was pass that on to my surviving child. 

I remember shopping with your mom once. We were in grade school. I was spending one of many nights at your house. I think it was the old Sentry in the plaza mall. There was a woman with a ‘stache and we just could not get over our giggles. Shame on us. I claim young and naïve, but your mom was fuming with us on that store visit! Many moments we have shared through the years. I asked you, when it was your time to leave us, to be sure to give Morgan a huge hug from me. Share stories. Step in for me.

As I sat and just stared at you, all those memories running thru my mind with memories of Morgan intertwining. And thoughts. Thoughts of Logan and his future. The two of you; so much alike. A beautiful friend and mother, and a beautiful son who sadly has the equal unintentional chance of laying right where you lay. Fighting in this world to survive against the demons that slowly destroy you. Thoughts of your daughter, who mind you, has grown to be an extremely strong and gorgeous momma and woman. Your grandchildren who are too young to understand the depth of you. And your young son who will miss you so very much; not fully comprehending any of this. And definitely your mom. She and I can relate on so many levels. I feel her pain deeply and the most words I have for her is that “I get it”. 

I spent five hours with you. I know I had so much more to say but couldn’t find the words. Part of me felt silly talking to you. I think it is because we had lost touch the past couple of years. I tried, my friend. I kept in touch with your mom and daughter, never knowing where you were. 

I promise you this: As long as I am here, I will silently watch over your family the best that I can. I will watch your grandchildren grow and check in on your daughter and mom with thoughts of you in my mind.

Rest easy girl ‘til you take your last breath. I will see you again ❤

~much love~

I took a ride this morning. I took a ride out towards the country. It was a nice ride. Peaceful, tearful, sunny, sad, but nice. As I was heading back to town on a long stretch of country road, my thoughts and my memories, as always, played in my mind. Rotating feelings, flashbacks, years, and milestones stuck in a labyrinth – nowhere for them to go. Not that I want them gone, but settled. Tucked away momentarily until I need them again. Though history, these things are fresh; real-time. Like the country road I traveled home. The wheels on my car were freshly turning; real-time. But everything I passed – drawing me closer to my destination; history. And yet, I was stuck in time as if my car were at a standstill and the scenery just kept passing by. Like those old cheesy movies before advanced technology. Getting closer and closer and all the history and current scenery fresh as can be. My time stands still, and as long as I breathe, it forever will. Physically I move forward. That is it. I’ve often referenced this journey that I am on to the movie Groundhog Day. In my version, however, there is no “getting it right” to get out of this repetitive freshness. It is imprinted in my mind like a branding. I am the owner of this still time .. branded for the rest of my days.

Much love to you all<3

~Mother of Logan and Morgan

A pleasure. Polite. Outgoing. Outspoken. Driven. Dedicated. Strong. Determined. Handsome. Helpful. Giving. Loving, and the list goes on…

He studied Kenpo Karate, graduating with a Black Belt while mentoring others.
He played the drums, guitar and even sang with writing a few of his own. He was in band through High School and did most of the drum sets his junior/senior years.
He played football for our local clubhouse, The Chiefs, from 6th-8th grades (mom missed 5th grade registration…) and played for his high school, The Valder’s Vikings, through his senior year. #51; now retired.
He and a good friend, Austin, ruffled feathers with insisting and petitioning the right to take each other to Senior Homecoming – they won and changed school policy even if for one time.
He was very dedicated to his Catholic faith and mentored in the Youth Group at his church as well as being Prayer Leader for his platoon.
He became interested in the United States Marine Corp in his early teenage years through visits from recruits during Karate classes. His interest was so strong he became dedicated to the idea early on of becoming a Marine and convinced me to enter him in the Delayed Entry Program (prior to age of 18). He graduated high school a semester early in order to ship out March 8, 2015, for boot camp.
He conquered The Crucible, earned his EGA and on 6.5.15 graduated PFC, USMC, being the top shooter of his platoon.
He marched in his Dress Blues on 6.7.15 for his high school graduation (something he had to petition for and ultimately won – his high school is cap/gown).
He became passionate about self-improvement/weight lifting (‘dem gainz) after his discharge and landed a position at his school’s weight room where he ended up receiving funding to order new equipment. I had received so many personal comments from people I both knew from his school district and strangers regarding how helpful he was to each individual with their weight room goals.
His weight room dedication brought him the opportunity to be the strength and conditioning coach for his high school football team the 2016 season.
He had many, many, many friends whom adored him greatly – even though he would disagree.
He had one girlfriend, Haley, since freshman year – 4 years. Of course, young, ups and downs, but 4 years!
He was a character and made crazy movies with his close friends at the time. They were called D.I.P. (Drop It Productions). You can find some of their videos on You Tube under the account The Austin Carron. The “Problem” song by Ariana Grande was the last video they made prior to my son’s issues developing during/after boot. He is the featured “singer” in the video.
He loved heavy metal music. I was honored to be able to see Iron Maiden for the first time with him in 2012. As well as take him to multiple Ozzfests and many other concerts.
He was attending one semester of tech school to gain the credits needed for UWGB, which he was enrolled to start January, 2017 (he didn’t plan on his military career coming to an end).
He worked from the age of 15 and up. Always had a job and always contributed to everything.
Funny. Honest. Athletic. Modest. Sensible. Compassionate. Kind-hearted. Sweet…

It was through boot camp I realized my son was changing. Not boot camp changing. More than that. The letters home were crossing the line of home sickness. I urged him to get help and the next letter would seem better; until the next after that. We both made it through this time. But the first time I seen him afterwards, things were physically and mentally off. His entire demeanor was beyond the Corp. A mother knows. He lost his faith after his discharge and had a rough time with his entire life plan coming to an end. The weight room job and college enrollment were positives, and things on the outside and to everyone around him were going great. Except to me. Something happened in boot. My heart aches and aches that this wonderful man, my beautiful child, suffered as he did and how fast his world came crashing down upon him. He had an ultimate plan and the day came that his plan became complete. I will forever cherish every single moment I had with him. My son.

Morgan J. Daly 10.15.96 ~ 12.1.16

I visited the lake Sunday. Lake Michigan is about a mile from home and I have always found it very calming. It was my tranquillity after Morgan’s death and still is when I need some momentary peace, or to shed my grief. I read his police and coroner reports here, cried at least one thousand tears here so far, and replay our moments together here.

I took this picture that day because the view was serene. Not until after I looked at the shot I captured, did I see my Morgan’s  heart shining through. I believe he was next to me. If only I could have felt my arms around him and kissed his forehead. Cherish your moment.

Hugs and much love to you all ❤

~mother of Logan & Morgan 

I am a writer. Of sorts. Though it has been a while since I really poured my soul into script, I feel that now may be the time to start once again. This could be my first post for a very long time or you may find that my writings will be more consecutive rather than occasional. Whichever they are, I hope you are touched in some way; be it heartfelt, laughter, and even sorrow. And if not? This is my path to cleansing my mind, body and soul. So, it’s a win/win for me 🙂

Much love to you ❤

~mother of Logan & Morgan