Sorry for the absence. Things have been crazy. Work, family, life in general. You know the drill.
Anyway, I suppose I should’ve mentioned it earlier… But as an experiment I started a new blog with a whole new attitude. Less readers, sure. But it’s a bit more about me and little less about love. Which is how my life is looking these days. I found it hard juggling two different blogs (and virtually two different attitudes) at the same time.
Check me out on the new blog for more up to date info on the life of Dean, The New York City Cynic (Formerly Single In New York) at http://nycitycynic.blogspot.com/
But here I am. Letting go. Of both my secrets and my responsibilities.
I am sitting in a very [uncomfortable] chair in a large, empty, cold, white hospital room. My father sleeps peacefully with the aid of medication. I listen to him breathe steadily at a much slower rythm than the keys of my laptop.
We will call him J.
**************************************
J and I have been through a lot together. We had dated on and off all through out high school. And shortly thereafter. He went away to college while I stayed home. I broke up with him before he left and demanded that he have fun at college without having to worry about me at home and how I would feel about the things he was doing. We agreed to stay friends, and we have.
Other than my sister, J is my best friend. We don’t always talk, and we see each other about once a year these days, but when we do, we pick up right where we left off. I know that he would be there for me if I ever needed him for anything, any time, anywhere in the world. And vice versa.
J and I will always have a special bond.
At a Christmas party this past winter we had chatted with each other for the first time in person in over a year. He introduced me to his live-in girlfriend of a year and I introduced him to the new crush in my life (you remember him? Mr. Perfect). Things were very nice. We caught up on what was new with each other, how our families had been, and places/bands/movies we had seen. We laughed about old times and hugged each other goodnight for what felt like eternity.
I got to see J again this past weekend. He drove down to attend a graduation party for a mutual friend of ours’. Him and his live-in girlfriend. She is very sweet, she’s pretty and smart, funny, and most importantly she adores him and treats him good.
*******************************************
But this isn’t about them. It’s about me. And my secret.
I have earlier mentioned that J was my first true love. So for that, he will always hold a special place in my heart. But what I neglected to mention was that I am still in love with J. That I might always be in love with J. And I have been lying to myself about that for years.
Even when I was with the Ex (the loser one) and all the other guys in between I would still think of J though we don’t talk often anymore. (Our schedules conflict. But we try to make it work!) And when I haven’t thought of him for a long time, I convince myself that I am not in love with him anymore.
…Until I see him.
Or hear is voice.
And I fall…
Head over heels.
All. Over. Again.
Such as this weekend. I like to think that I hide it well, that not even my best friends who know me better than anybody know my true feelings for him.
J pulls me aside.
“Dean. I heard about your father. I’m so sorry. Why didn’t you call me? I would have come down!” He’s referring to the Father’s Day weekend disaster.
“Don’t worry about it. He’s fine now. But I’m sure he’d love to see you. If you have time before you head home, you should stop over there.”
“Yea I will. But you really should have called me. Is there anything you need?”
“No. I’ve got it all under control. But thanks.”
We hug. And we walk back to the table to engage in some more drinking, reminiscing and chain smoking on the patio by the pool.
Sitting at a round table is me, six high school classmates I was very close with at one point, their significant others, and a mutual friend of all of our’s whom is a few years older than we are. Sitting across from me is J and his girlfriend.
Just as the sun is setting, the firepit is getting started and the candles are being lit, one of my best friends from high school (we will call her B) and someone who is very close with J as well, pulls me aside.
“Dean. I’m not crazy. I swear. But I think J is still in love with you.”
“WHAT?!” Im genuinely shocked.
“I’m serious. You should see the way he looks at you. You were talking before to S and he was staring at you… adoringly.”
“B, have you lost your mind?! He has a girlfriend, that he lives with, for almost TWO years now!”
“Yea, but… Didn’t he ask you to move in with him?”
“About 100 years ago! Seriously, I was dating ‘The Ex’ and he wanted me to move hundreds of miles from home and work. We were just kids!”
“But that didn’t stop you from moving in with The Ex.”
“That was different.”
“I’m just saying. I think there’s a good chance he’s still in love with you.”
“Alright. And what am I supposed to do about it?”
“Go after him! I always said you guys were meant to be together!!”
“We did nothing but fight when were together! We’re much better off as friends.”
“You were kids!”
“Didn’t I just say that?”
“Whatever. I’m just saying…”
Is she right? I have no clue. And I will most likely never know. Because I will never ask him. And I will never admit to B that I still love him whether he loves me or not, because what J and I have is very special. It’s something most people will never experience in their entire lives, and we are so very lucky for that. And because of the great bond that we share, I will never risk making things weird between us.
…Unless of course he admits it first.
Then, all bets are off.
My Dearest J,
I thought it important to express how deep my love is for you. That the air would not smell as sweet should it not blow through your hair. That the sun is only warm when I think of it kissing your cheeks and then I become envious, for I long to kiss those cheeks myself. That the night time sky wouldn’t be as beautiful if glistening stars didn’t remind me of the twinkle in your beautiful, brown eyes.
I should tell you that the crashing waves and the towering buildings no longer scare me. Nor do I fear the howling wind of a thundering storm, the cold lonely nights, the thick haunted woods. I don’t even fear the distance between us. For I know that our hearts will one day bring us together and we will share the rest of our days cherishing one another.
My love for you, sweet J, is infinite and immortal. It is what keeps me going in these times when I cannot see your face, hear your voice, or be held in your arms. The love I hold so tight is strong and it’s pure, but mostly it’s beautiful. It is so exquisite that William Shakespeare himself could not find words to express its full splendor.
Tonight, handsome J, dream of me as I dream of you. And know that soon we will be together for all time.
Thinking of you always with more love than I could express in ten thousand lifetimes,
Dean.
But we live in 2008. And I would not dare share such a letter. But, perhaps it will go a little like this instead,
“I wanted to tell you that I love you. That I’ve loved you all along. And I’ll always love you.”
And I’ll leave it at that. Because while sonnets and melodies are gorgeous, sometimes just the straightforward, reader’s digest version is all that’s needed. (And easier for me to spit out before I throw up all over him from being so nervous.)
I’m not yet sure when this will take place. But we are supposed to be getting together either tonight or tomorrow night (depending on the condition of my dad after some more testing today). Of course I will report back…
For the three readers that I do have, I am sorry that I have not been here in quite some time.
While down in Tennessee for a long weekend attending Bonnaroo (a festival with camping, drinking, music, and drinking) my father suffered two strokes while I was gone.
I have been attemping to take the best possible care for him that I can right now. So I will not be around until he starts to come around. I’m sorry.
I will be back… soon… hopefully.
Hope all is well with everyone out there.
He and I (we will call him “B”) are somewhat dating now these days. And for the first time in a long time, I’m dating someone exclusively. It’s strange to be back in this place, somewhere I haven’t been a while, and have not even visited since I last left.
Sunday morning I am woken up by his alarm on his cell phone.
“Good morning. I know this is a bit earlier than we talked about, but I figured you didn’t want to miss a run with Doc before we head out. So I set the alarm a little earlier than planned.”
“Thanks.” I managed to whisper while yawning.
Yes, I let him stay the night. That’s the first time I’d let anyone I was interested in stay the night since the Ex moved out. It was nice waking up to his face. I’ll admit that.
We were dressed in less than five minutes and out the door. Doc, B, and I running through Central Park together. The sun was warm, and it didn’t rain like they had predicted. Vendors were selling potted plants and hibiscus trees at discounted prices, and lines were wrapped up and down the paths with last minute Mother’s Day shoppers.
We stopped to get smoothies on the way back to the apartment and discussed the train schedule and the day’s plans and events.
[Side note: I even let him shower and get dressed at my apartment after our run, rather than him going home and coming back. That was a little strange, but I liked it. A lot.]
An hour later, we were out the door again. Two subways and a train ride later and we were on the train platform in Trenton (New Jersey) waiting for our cab. We were going to his parents’ house for brunch where we would meet with his [twin] brother and his girlfriend and the four of us would enjoy a breakfast/lunch buffet accompanied by B’s parents and two grandmothers.
I had met B’s parents before, and B lives with his brother, so I have met him and his girlfriend before too. But I have never met his grandmothers and I have never met his parents while we were considered “dating”. It makes it so much easier meeting the family when you know there is nothing romantic going on between the two of us, now that we’re actually dating, and they know it, it changes everything. And maybe they didn’t think so, or they just didn’t acknowledge it, because everything felt exactly the same. Which was a wonderful relief.
At about 2:45, we were out the door again. One train, two subways, and another train later, and we were now standing at the train platform at Ronkonkoma (Long Island, New York) where we waited for another cab.
And now B was in the same situation as I was earlier in the day. He had met most of my family before, just not when we were dating. But again, no one acted any different. This, I’m sure, was a relief for him as well.
We went to the beach and then we went to the Shrine where I really opened up to him.
I told him why that place was so special to me, what it was like when my mom was sick, and how strange everything felt after she had passed. I told him how I can’t remember my grandparents’ funerals a few shorts months after my mom’s because I was practically a zombie by then. I even told him how I hate myself everyday because I can’t remember her. My own mother. The woman who gave birth to me.
He stayed silent, but supportive. He hugged me, and held my hand, and kissed my cheek.
The train ride home was quiet. I just wondered what he was thinking.
*********************************************************
“Can I stay the night? I love waking up to your face.”
And I let him.
Doc and I are laying in my bed watching Sex in the City reruns. And it makes me wonder, will I be Carrie Bradshaw forever?
Sure, we’re both single and living in New York. We go out for drinks with our friends after a long day in the office. We rely on our laptops, sitting at home, calling our names after we experience a night of bliss, a night of turmoil and everything in between. The keys long to be pressed by my fingers while I dictate every detail of my life’s events. Or sometimes the lack thereof.
The difference between Carrie and I? Well, for starters, I don’t march down Fashion Avenue wearing Manolo Blahniks and sip martinis and cosmopolitans with Manhattan socialites, corporate executives and a wealthy lawyer. I do, however, sip imported beers (at $8 a pop) at pubs with a documentary producer, an art gallery owner, a waitress, a struggling actor, a writer, a college professor, a New York City firefighter, and a few students. My hair does not look nearly as nice or tamed as hers when it decides to defy my many efforts to keep it from curling. I don’t work one day a week, in fact I work eight. I do not attend glamorous galas, parties, and balls. And I don’t sleep with every person that I date.
I am dating someone, yes. He is not the Mr. Perfect you have read about in previous posts. He is not that friend that I mentioned once or twice before. He is not the Ex.
He’s… someone semi-new.
He and I met last May at a bar. He’s a few years older than me, but still likes to have fun. He is mature and responsible but spontaneous and carefree at the same time (if that is possible).
But this post is not about him.
It’s about me. About my desire to be happy, but my inability to allow myself to do so. I refuse to open up to people. This is a flaw that I am aware of, am ashamed of, but still cannot seem to break this horrible habit of mine. What is it that I am afraid of? What is it that scares me so much that I will push people away from me? People that seem to care about me, and want to be there for me.
And most importantly, how do I make myself stop?
I cannot say whether or not he will be fed up with these habits of mine. But I can tell you that many have done that before. And have walked away, leaving me in the dust, without looking back because of this terrible thing that I do. And I never see it coming. Not until it’s too late. And all that’s left is sad little Dean and her self-broken heart.
Which brings me back to Carrie. Am I Carrie Bradshaw? As much as I wish I weren’t. As much as I don’t want to be. As much as I deny it… I think I know deep down it’s true. And I think my friends know it too. And perhaps they’re just too afraid to bring it to my attention, fearing that I don’t already know. Fearing that I might feel attacked, criticized, or ridiculed. Fearing I will only put my guard up higher and stronger.
I don’t want to be Carrie. I don’t want to be Samantha, Miranda, or even Charlotte. I want to be Dean. But I want to be the Dean that’s not afraid to be happy.
Using all the strength I have, I will open up to him. Right now.
[He] and I grew up together. Well, we didn’t really grow up together. [He] is two years older than me and we didn’t have any classes together in school. [He] lived a few short blocks away from my father’s house and played hockey with my older brother as kids. I always knew who [He] was, but never really talked to [Him]. Until last year….
We ran into each other at one of Long Island’s famous St. Patrick’s Day parades. It had been years since we had even seen each other. We enthusiastically said hello, hugged one another, and shared a green beer. In ten minutes we managed to catch up with each other on our living situations, work standings, and relationship status while our friends impatiently waited for us to rejoin them and the drinking festivities.
[He] was happy to hear that I was no longer with The Ex, explaining that rumors were floating around about The Ex and I and how he had been sleeping with my then best friend… in my apartment… in my bed. And I thought to myself, “Why didn’t any of these rumors happen to make it back to me? Because I sure wish they had.” We laughed at what a loser The Ex is, and [He] told me how much better I could do and more importantly, I SHOULD do. We got one more beer together and parted ways for the rest of the day.
A few days later, at my sister’s for our regular Monday Night Poker Tournament Jon pulled me aside. Forgetting that [He] and Jon work together, Jon told me how [He] had been talking about me all week. Something like this, “Did I tell you I ran into Dean this weekend?”, “Did I mention that I saw Dean?”, “You know Dean broke up with her boyfriend, right?”, “Do you happen to know if she’s dating anyone?”, “Are you and Dean still friends? Could you find out for me if she would like to go out to eat some time?” I was shocked to say the least. Jon confessed that he gave [Him] my number and said that I was expecting [His] call, when in reality I hadn’t known a thing about it.
After months of asking me out to eat, and me declining for various reasons (misc. dates made prior to his and my reconnection, Mr. Perfect, and some other scheduling conflicts) I agreed to hang out casually as just friends and get to know each other. We bar hopped with a circle of his friends. We went out for Happy Hour with a few of mine. We attended a local concert, the beach for a meteor shower, and a few dozen Blockbuster/6-Pack nights.
Ever since [He] and I started getting together (as STRICTLY friends) I have been developing a “thing” for [Him]. Though, I would never admit it, because of how many times I had turned down [His] request for a date.
Tuesday night [He] dropped by unannounced. Which is more than fine with me. (I’m pretty informal myself, and don’t usually have a problem with friends just dropping by to say hello.) [He] had perfect timing, I was just walking from the stove to the kitchen table with a plate full of dinner for myself when [He] knocked on the door.
“What? Did you smell the food?” I teased. [He] laughed and told me [He] was just dropping by to see if I wanted to get a bite to eat AS FRIENDS, grab a movie and have a few beers. Instead, [He] came in, made himself a plate, and we retired to my couch with a few beers for dessert.
A few hours later it was time for [Him] to leave just as my liquid courage was kicking in.
“Hey, I have this birthday party to go to on Saturday for an old friend from high school.”
“That sounds like fun. You should have a good time.”
“Yea. I’m excited to see her. But I know there’s going to be about 15-20 people there also from high school, that no only do I have no desire to see, but I don’t really want to talk to either.” [He] laughed. “So I was wondering… What are you doing on Saturday?”
“Hanging out with you, beautiful.”
I beamed!
“Really? You don’t mind going? You won’t know anyone there I don’t think, and it might be really boring, I mean you don’t have to go.” [He] leaned in and kissed my cheek.
“I would love to go. Honestly. I’ll call you tomorrow. Goodnight.” [He] winked just as [He] turned and stepped out the door.
…I can’t believe I did that.
And I can’t believe its tomorrow! I’m really excited.
1.) When you lie to your parents and go somewhere/do something they would not approve of, you run the risk of getting into some kind of trouble. Resulting in your getting caught or forcing you to lie some more to ensure you don’t get caught.
2.) When you break a bone, it hurts.
3.) When a doctor recommends something (casting a limb, wiring your jaw shut, prescribing medication, warning you of future risks, etc.) you should always listen. They know what they’re talking about. (Which is why they’re doctors.)
4.) Whenever you think there’s no hope left… you’re wrong. Always.
5.) People can always be understood and forgiven. But situations don’t have to be forgotten. Especially situations that turned into lessons.
6.) The only things in life that cannot be erased:
a) The past.
b) Words that were spoken.
c) Broken promises.
7.) Family is always the most important thing. If your family is not worthy of your love, create a new family, we often call them friends when they mean so much more.
8.) Don’t ever pass up an opportunity to tell a loved one just how much they mean to you.
9.) A broken heart hurts much worse than people will tell you. You’ll never understand unless you actually experience it.
10.) Everyone should experience it. At least once. You’ll appreciate the love that much more.
11.) I’m not perfect. Neither are you. Don’t get too mad at other people who just can’t help but makes mistakes. We’ve all made our share. (Some more than others.)
12.) Fall in love. Every fucking chance you get!
13.) Try to forgive people for their past. You may have done something that someone else might not approve of.
14.) Express yourself as much as you can everyday. Write, paint, read, dye your hair a funky color, dress however you want to, get a tattoo, and remember just how beautiful you are when you’re being true to yourself.
15.) Smile. Everyday. Because no matter how hard things get, someone always has it worse than you, and someone would always “kill” to be in your shoes rather than their own.
16.) Be thankful for every single thing you’ve ever done and experienced. It made you who you are. Don’t regret a thing.
17.) When you say something about someone else that you wouldn’t want them to hear; There’s a 98% chance they’re going to hear it. So be careful.
18.) When you call out sick from your job to go to your favorite bar with all of your friends, there is a very high risk of running into your boss while you’re there. (Learned that one this weekend. Whoops!)
19.) Things that always change:
a.) Fashion
b.) Music
c.) Time
d.) Weather
e.) Technology
f.) Relationships
g.) The strengthening/weakening of your heart
20.) The value of your worth is determined by you, not by status, money, power, material things, etc. If you feel that you’re worth nothing, than you are. And trust me; you’re always worth a lot more than you give yourself credit for.
21.) Don’t let anyone make you feel any less than wonderful. Because it’s not true and they don’t deserve to know just how wonderful you really are.
22.) There won’t always be a tomorrow. But try not to think about it. Today is so much more important! Because if there is a tomorrow, what you do today can make or break it.
23.) Love is so much sweeter when you’re not afraid of it.
24.) Work is just work. It should never be your life. Your family, friends, experiences, adventures, lessons, mistakes, smiles, laughs, memories, heart-aches, and failures are what make up your life. Work is just something we do to make sure we can have all those other things.
25.) Trust your gut.
26.) Don’t even be afraid to ask for help. Offer to help others every chance you get.
27.) Doing what you love is so much more important than making millions of dollars.
28.) Try as many new things as possible and meet as many new people as you can. You can never have too many friends and learning new things, trying new things, going new place is an important part of life.
29.) Don’t hold in your feelings. You’re only hurting yourself that way.
30.) Always remember:
The sun always rises in the East.
It always sets in the west.
The stars always shine.
(Even if you can’t see them.)
Time never stops.
And it doesn’t rewind.
People come and go.
Just make sure you know who to keep and who to let go.
Time doesn’t heal all things.
But it certainly can help.
It takes more energy to be angry, than it does to be happy.
Try to learn other people’s lessons.
But most importantly:
Learn from your own.
As per my lawyer’s request, I have not attempted to contact L or the Ex since she has left my apartment for good. It broke my heart to think that there was a possibility that I could never see Calvin again. After all L and I went through and as much as I didn’t fully trust her again (yet) I was sad to think I might not ever see her again either.
I received a phone call from her (some time ago) shortly after she left and let me keep Calvin for a few short days in her absence. She informed me that she would be by to pick him up… permanently. It took a lot of strength to hold back the tears and lump in my throat until I could hang up with her.
Not more than three days later she called again. I was ecstatic just seeing her name on my caller I.D. I thought for sure she was going to move back in with me and bring Calvin with her. Or maybe ask that he stay with me again. But when I answered, and it was bad news on the other end; Not what I had expected.
“Calvin and I are moving back to Florida.”
“Is there anything I can do to change your mind? All of your friends and family are here. What do you have down in Florida?”
“Well, I’m moving back in with The Ex.”
My heart dropped.
Instant lump in my throat.
Sudden lightheadedness.
Lost.
“Are you guys back together?”
“Well, we decided that we needed to give it another try. Especially since we have a family together and a new addition on the way.” She neglected to tell me that part while she was living with me. I didn’t know she was pregnant again.
“Do you really think that’s the best thing for Calvin? Or you? Or another child?”
“I think it’s going to be good this time. He’s learned his lesson and knows that he can lose me and the kids in an instant if he screws up again. He’s really changed, Dean.”
She sounds so… naïve. Silly, even. The conversation didn’t seem real. Was she delusional? Did she really think someone (with a not-so-trustworthy history) could change so much in such a short amount of time? I suppose it’s possible… but probable? No.
*******
There was something about that conversation that didn’t feel right. It didn’t leave me feeling right. Was I supposed to be happy for her? Was I supposed to believe that he had changed? Changed for her and not for me? Was I supposed to think that Calvin was going to have the great life that he deserved?
I still don’t know what I believe. But I know now what I feel. I am sad for him. And sad that I will not see him grow up.
And I hate the sound of silence more and more every night that I sit at home and hope that he is happy and well-taken care of.
And I wait for the day that we might meet again.
But she wasn’t always strong. She had to learn how to be strong. Because she knew no one would or could be strong enough for her. They never even offered. They didn’t even try. Just pushed her aside and left her to fend for herself. The poor little thing.
But don’t call her that. Not now. Don’t feel sorry for her! Don’t pity her or shed tears on her behalf. Because it’s too little, too late. She has been locked away in her own mind all alone. Where she was cornered and abused by monsters and demons. They tried to bring her down, make her into nothing. And keep her from moving on. And yet, she still closed herself up and stayed trapped in that crazy head of hers. And that’s the way she likes it. Because that’s all she’s ever known.
********
So when she breaks down and cries, it’s monumental. Because she doesn’t often let herself cry. Because they were not there to comfort her before, so they won’t be there now. Because while she doesn’t think other people are weak for crying, she thinks she is if she does it. Because no good can come from tears. Just dried up eyes, running noses, and wasted energy.
So when she pushes you away (if she hasn’t already, she will) it’s because she’s so scared she doesn’t even know what to do with herself. Because she knows if she doesn’t push you away she will have to open up to you otherwise. And that’s not something she likes to do. Because that means that you see it all, hear it all, know it all. The good and the bad. The logic and the chaos. And she fears that there’s more bad than good.
And pushing you away before you walk away hurts a lot less in the end.
Because walking away is sometimes the worst thing you can do to her. Because it’s all too familiar. Too familiar to that little girl inside who will secretly never get over it. Something she wishes she never experienced. But has experienced it more times than she can count. And she doesn’t know how many more times she can take of it. Before she loses it. Loses it all. And really can’t go on anymore.
Walking away from her and leaving her behind helps her justify the act of pushing people away. An art she has mastered over the years. Something she does not take pride in, will not always admit, but a crime she commits on a regular basis. Like clockwork. Yea, she’s that predictable.
Don’t feel sorry for her! She doesn’t need it. It will get her nowhere. She has made it this far without your pity and sympathy. And she will make it even further. Just to prove to them how strong she is. How much she has done, can do, and will do all on her own.
*******
Sometimes she feels comfortable in her own skin. Enough to admit this major flaw. (And other flaws. Because she has many.) Sometimes she’s sick of running and hiding from people who want to be there for her. She gets tired of pushing people away and feeling alone.
And in a certain world, a perfect one, she feels naked bearing her heart and soul on the table but not too naked where she needs to run away.
I wonder how I got here. How things got to be so complicated and how I did nothing to prevent it or stop it. I think back to what life was like when things were simple. When everything made sense. When routines were just routines but a way of life. And I enjoyed it. When the world was brighter, or at least my world was.
Everything is dark and gray. The air seems colder than it’s ever been. It doesn’t feel there is any sunlight in the future, no warmth, nothing to look forward to. Walking with my head down seems like the right thing to do. To raise my chin would imply that I am ready and willing to accept whatever is ahead of me. That couldn’t be any further from the truth. In a perfect world I would retire to my mess of an apartment where I would live in pajamas and slippers day in and day out in complete solitude. But, as I have learned time and time again, this is not a perfect world. Far from it.
***************************
I remember hearing this horror story of a man who was depressed. He thought he had it all. His job was wonderful and paid well. He had a beautiful wife and two adoring children who were smart, beautiful, and well behaved. His home was clean and orderly and dinner was always on the table when he arrived home from work. His wife, his high school sweetheart, ironed his shirt every morning before work and readied his coffee and briefcase just before he left. His kids kissed him goodbye in the morning and kissed him goodnight before bed. They got straight A’s and respected their parents and did their homework. His family was close and loving, they were funny and intelligent. They were envied by most.
Until one day he came home to find his wife in bed with another man. His cousin. His best man at their wedding. The one who had comforted him when he lost his father to Cancer just two winters earlier. In a fit of rage, he screamed at his wife and demanded to know how long this had been going on. Much to his dismay he learned it had been going on for years. In fact, his youngest, a little girl, might not even be his. She was eleven by now. Devastated he ran out of the house, dropping his briefcase and coffee mug on the bedroom floor before leaving.
The wife picks up his briefcase and discovers a card and small box had fallen out of it. The card was addressed “The Greatest Love I Have Ever Known”. She knew she probably should not have opened it, but she did anyway. Inside that tiny box was her mother’s engagement ring. The one she had inherited when she graduated high school. Just weeks after her mother had passed away. It was beautiful, but it didn’t fit any of her fingers. It broke her heart knowing that she couldn’t wear it. She stared at it sadly in her jewelry box from time to time. When had he taken it? And how had she not even known?
He had it resized for her. To wear on her right hand. It was cleaned and sparkled brighter than she had ever seen it. As she put it on her finger, one single tear ran down her cheek. She paused before opening the card for fear of what wonderful things he might say to her in there.
“Nancy, after nearly twenty perfect years of marriage, I couldn’t love you any more than I do now. Because my heart might burst otherwise. You are everything to me, and I don’t know what I would do without you. Will you remarry me?”
He shot himself that night in his office. Alone. In the dark. And much to everyone’s amazement, there was no note. No e-mail left behind. No “sign” that he was hurting and no unusual behavior in the recent weeks. No clues. No nothing.
But Nancy knew. She knew that she had taken her children’s daddy away. That she had broken his heart more than he could bear. She had destroyed their beautiful family and shattered any chance of a normal life for her kids. She knew.
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What stunned me the most was that this man could take his own life. He was so low that he truly felt that he couldn’t go on any longer. Life was no longer important. His children’s lives were no longer a concern. He thought only of himself and what he could and couldn’t handle. He didn’t think about whether or not his kids could handle it. And he never even gave them a choice.
But there are multiple things in this story that are horrifying and things that are not as bad as they seem on the surface.
He left his wife and young children to fend for themselves. He was selfish and didn’t worry about their safety. He left his wife feeling guilty for the rest of her life, thinking about how it was all her fault and her children would not have the wonderful lives they were meant to have had she not slept with his cousin.
But his children, should they learn from this, could go one of two ways. They could be weak; letting the past hold them back and frighten them about so many things in the future. Or they could be strong, learning early that life is not fair and ready to entertain whatever life’s tragedies will be thrown their way.
***************************
I have seen beautiful things. But I have seen horror. I have watched loved ones die slowly over the course of year while in pain. I have buried friends that were just too young to die. I have seen what being selfish can do to people, others, and themselves. I have witnessed deceit and injustice.
But now matter how bad things got for me, I was never selfish enough to take my own life. Giving up was just not an option. And it never will be. I will push on. Always. Getting stronger with each obstacle thrown in my path in hopes of tripping me, or slowing me down, or encouraging me to stop the journey all together.
Life continues.
Not forever.
And not for everyone.
Which is why I value every fucking second that I have.
Because I am lucky to each and every one of them.
Luckier than some.
No matter how hard it gets.
