I am a retired restaurant and telecom manager with forty years of management, training, and technical writing experience. I retired nine years ago and told my wife I would write a book. This past November we had just returned from her brother's funeral and I wrote a poem for my sister-in-law titled The Empty Chair. My wife and she were both very moved by it and said I should think about writing. When I said "Some day" my wife reminded me that tomorrow isn't guaranteed, and life is too short to keep saying someday. She said either stop talking about it or sit down and do it.

That's when I started writing and I began with a Memoir, thinking it best to start with something I know about. Then the whole Covid controversy came into my head, and I had to get it down on paper (in a Word doc.), so I wrote The Year of the Rat. While writing "Rat" I had an idea for a Private Investigator that failed as a cop but was able to stumble over significant cases and have big wins and I began writing my Blake Franklin Investigations series in January. The first one was finished three weeks later, and the ideas kept coming into my head. I either had to write or suffer an overload of words in my head. Blake Franklin is a manifestation of the failures and setbacks in my life, feeling like I always wanted to do more, have a greater impact, and help more people realize their dreams. Like Blake, I always believe the "good guys" should win. They should never finish last and they certainly should not lose the girl to the bad boys.

This poem is the one that started my writing career. I hope readers will enjoy it and love the characters my mind has brought to life.

The Empty Chair

Doing common things in town and at home

Simply because I’m now really on my own

Grocery store runs, and filling the car with gas

Dry cleaners, bakery, or other daily tasks

May seem to others like an ordinary feat

But they don’t talk to the empty seat.

Walks on a beach where once two shadows

Connected hands, pants rolled, in the shallows

Concerts, movies, restaurants, bars

Sitting on the front porch, or riding in a car

So many friends that we use to go meet

Have no words to fill the empty seat.

The comfort I find in words written in red

When sleep eludes me as I lay in my bed

I open the cover of His well-worn Book

Looking for answers for all He took

I thank God for those who still surround me

My daughter, her children their love will ground me

Taking on challenges never before attempted

My love, my helper, his lifetime preempted.

My sister and brother and those who live far

Their love unconditionally helps heal the scar

Of losing the one who made us complete

Family gallantly trying to fill the empty seat.

A wound so fresh time has yet to overcome

Eventually all stages of grief, one by one

Will weigh on my shoulders until they depart

Having hurt and healed my broken heart

With God and my family, I know I’ll defeat

The pain I associate with the empty seat.