February 15, 2015
Daydreaming in Federal Prison
Day dreaming has become a regular pastime for me in prison. I have plenty of time to do it. I look back to specific days and events in my life and try to reconstruct them with as much detail as I can remember. I try to focus on positive days and events but I am not always successful. Today, my day dreaming took me back only several years, to Friday June 15, 2012.
It was a pleasant early summer day. I got up at 5:30 am. I had a quick bowl of cereal and let Chaser and Mac outside for a few minutes. I tossed them each a milk bone and I was out the door.
I was traveling to Stratford, Ontario that day for the funeral of my uncle, Frank McKenzie. Uncle Frank was my mom’s youngest brother. He lived most of his life running his family farm outside of Stratford. As I made my way up I-94 to the Blue Water bridge crossing into Canada I thought about all of the prior trips I took to my Uncle’s farm as a child. I used to go to the farm in August of each year to “help” with the annual harvest. It was an exciting time for a kid from the city.
As I crossed into Canada, I focused on my Uncle’s funeral. I do not like funerals and I became tense and sad. I arrived in Stratford, fixed my tie, took a deep breath and headed into the funeral home. I engaged in small talk with my Aunt and cousins. The service was short and simple but it did capture the essence of Uncle Frank. The funeral procession led us to the cemetery a few miles away. Uncle Frank was laid to rest in the McKenzie family plot in bright sunshine with birds chirping all around us. I attended the post burial luncheon but excused myself sooner than I should have to begin the 3 hour drive home. I wanted to be back by 5:30 as we had plans with friends that evening. After driving about 30 minutes, I had a strange sad feeling come over me that I had never experienced. I attributed it to my Uncle’s passing.
I crossed back over the Blue Water bridge into Michigan and headed down I-94 towards home. On the way, I saw a large dead cat in the median. I again felt that same strange feeling I had felt earlier in the trip. I again dismissed it by rationalizing it was caused by my love of animals.
I pulled into my driveway at 5:15. I was happy to be home early. I walked in the door and immediately something was not right. Chaser and Mac were there to greet me but they seemed quite subdued. I walked into the family room and my wife and youngest son were standing behind the sofa with red faces and swollen eyes. My wife said “Taylor’s gone”. It did not register with me and I replied, “What do you mean Taylor’s gone? ” “Where did he go?” She replied “he is dead”. The rest of that day is a blur, I could not tell you who came by or what was said. It was mass chaos. The only thing I remember was that my son was dead and that my heart was broken in two.
I have relived that day many times in my mind over the past 2 and 1/2 years. My heart is still broken and Taylor is in heaven and I am currently residing in hell. I plan on finding the way to heaven so I can see him again and fix my broken heart.
Ken Flaska
