Category: About Love


Journeying through a COVID World

Filed under: About Love, Faith & Doubt, Life Lessons
May 14, 2020

Man downhill observing mountain landscape at sunset

Forgiveness is a tough exercise. It’s necessary for peace in life. It’s natural to hold onto the wrongs of life and vowing to get even at some future day. Unfortunately, it rarely works out.

I passed by a COVID patient wishing for some old-time jazz music. I am not talking about the 1970’s jazz scene. I’m referring to classical legends such as Glen Miller. The gentleman tried humming PEnnsylvania 6-5000, but couldn’t remember the lyrics. PEnnsylvania 6-500 was a Glenn Miller hit lasting twelve weeks. Miller wrote the song in an era when most local telephone calls in large cities were dialed directly and required an operator.

PEnnsylvania 6-5000 was recorded by many stars, including the Andrew Sisters. Unfortunately for the Andrew Sisters, Maxene and Patty Andrews had a falling out. Some claim the issue was due to a family estate, others claim it was from show royalties, and according to a documentary, Maxene Andrews lived two parallel lives: the professional and personal. For years Maxene Andrews had a relationship with her manager, Lynda Wells.

For thirteen weeks, the Andrew Sisters sang together but never spoke to one another. LaVerne passed in 1967, Maxene in 1995, and Patty in 2013. Maxene and Patty never reconciled.

I hoped the patient I passed was not in a similar situation. I pulled out a cell phone, opened YouTube, and placed the phone by the man’s ear. The Andrew Sisters filled the room with angelic harmony. The softly smiled and comfortably rested his hands on his chest.

There’s always a hearing. It comes to us in dreams, or maybe a song, after a reminder of some long lost love or slighted friend. Perhaps we’ll hear that voice at a gravesite, hospital, or in the wake of a simmering feud. However, it comes, it is the voice of God calling, beckoning to remind us of the power and love in forgiveness.

Some of us will wrestle with its authentication. Was it divine? Maybe it was the wine? Yes? No? But if we’re willing to risk abandoning that which matters so little, perhaps we can discern its lesson and experience the power of love – the ability to forgive. The power of God’s love propels us to understand that we can’t live in the now while holding onto yesterday.

Our journey will define our lives. The best route is one that lived in physical, spiritual, geographical, and emotional balance. Yeah, we’ll all walk the valley of doubt, difficulty, anger, and sometimes hatred. Through all of it, we’ll learn to navigate, meet God in the doorway of eternal love, and finally reconcile all that we were, all we are, and all we’ll ever become. It should be the warmth of intimacy, not the allure of fault.

A few minutes later, I left my jazz aficionado asleep, caught in the memories of an earlier life. I could catch snippets and slight moments of a dream. Was that dream from early life? The Andrew Sisters? Glen Miller? Or was the dream of some long feud remaining unresolved? Hard to say. Whatever dream occupied him, I hoped it indeed was peaceful. I hope it was love.

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Meaning In a COVID World

Filed under: About Love, Faith & Doubt, Life Lessons
May 12, 2020

Working nonstop on our company’s Coronavirus Tiger Team is exhausting. Let’s face it; coronavirus news is depressing and impossible to get secluded. On Friday, I mentally shut down. Finally, getting several days off, I extracted myself from any form of COVID news. As valiant as that effort was, my Samsung flooded with COVID-19 messages. 

Our Task Force required daily watching of our current Washington administration updates. Many team members left wondering if any intelligible life existed on Pennsylvania Avenue. We can’t stand the constant political bickering and stream of negativity. As Seth Meyers stated, any time, a world-renowned idiot like Donald Trump tells you to think about that’s your queue to exit the conversation. “He’s like the dumbest guy at the cocktail party trying to make conversation by telling you something he read on a Snapple cap.”

Truthfully honest, I don’t give a s••• if Coronavirus gets me anymore. I used to, but not now. Of course, there’s the anxiety associated with still going into a hospital, as my work is considered medically necessary. Sure, there’s the reality that every time I enter the front doors, it increases my probability of catching the virus. And of course, I take exceedingly due diligence, even when I stop for gas. However, at the end of the, it is what is.

Why? Well, there are a lot of people out there worse off than me. For many people, it’s a rather dark time. Jobs are gone. Savings are being depleted. And we’re experiencing long-term isolation never intended. 

Humanity survived worse. There were World Wars, the Black Flu, Spanish Flu, smallpox, H1N1, HIV/Aids. Yet, it’s those who find purpose under unimaginable circumstances will survive – and eventually prosper. Frankl called it the ‘quest for meaning.’ 

Sometimes we find meaning in extraordinary places. I find it in the transcendental power of Love. Frankl noted this form of Love accordingly.

“Love goes very far beyond the physical person of the beloved. It finds its deepest meaning in his spiritual being, his inner self. Whether or not he is actually present, whether or not he is still alive at all, ceases somehow to be of importance.”

Frankl’s words, “life is never made unbearable by circumstances, but only by lack of meaning and purpose,” are a call to action today. Finding purpose, a fundamental requirement for human health and well-being, will not cure the Coronavirus, but may well mitigate its effects and enable a more rapid recovery.

Zig Ziglar stated we could either react or respond. Sure, many of us will have good days. Many of us will have bad days. But each of us can choose to adopt positive attitudes and control our response to the circumstances.

Therefore, when I say, “I don’t give a s••• anymore,” it’s because I do. I refuse to ‘react’ to COVID-19. Instead, I am responding by finding any semblance of Love possible. I choose to find meaning and purpose in what I do. If I die, then so be it. I die in meaning and Love.

“When we are no longer able to change a situation, we are challenged to change ourselves.”

~Victor Frankl ~

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Its Not Illusion, It’s Friendship

Filed under: About Love, Faith & Doubt
April 14, 2020

In the past several years, I’ve only told two people of visits from Ms. K: my case manager and a close friend. And thus far, I’ve only mentioned my Parkinson’s diagnosis to the readers of this blog and my therapist. Although I’ve dropped a few bread crumbs in my blog about my identity, I’ve kept my identity hidden and don’t fear exposure from my readers.

I have to admit; after Parkinson’s diagnosis, there were several occasions when I thought Ms. K. was nothing a delusion; for, as you may know, about 20% of Parkinson’s patients develop some form of hallucination. Delusions can lead to jealousy, persecution, aggression, and can pose safety risks to family members or caregivers. I will state that I have not experienced any such delusion. 

Allow me to explain. 

Ms. K. never told me to hurt someone, jump from a cliff, told me ‘they’ (whoever ‘they’ might be) were after me. Additionally, I’ve neither become upset, distraught, nor combative about her presence. She never appears during the day, does not appear daily, and doesn’t bug me when I’m alone. 

In fact, Ms. K. has only selectively appeared during meditation. Initially, she graced me with her presence in 2014. Inbetween 2014 and 2019, she never visited. 

In 2019, she reappeared (see Landing Zones). During the time she’s appeared, she’s said my time was limited, treated me like a friend, and said she would meet me when I die. That’s it.

Turns out, Ms. K. is a friend. She’s the friend I wish I had four decades ago and remains true to the values lived in life.

Ms. K. has never exalted herself and never fashioned something she could be proud of. Additionally, she’s never left God out of the picture and has never assisted me in building a monument unto myself. Lastly, she’s never let me live in pride. She pretty much tells me as it is. I can be right, I can be wrong, but I always receive her best. Lastly, her faith is Christlike and is based in love, and bathed in the belief she has in me and is not dependent upon some old rules.

A good friend has integrity, even when the bottom falls out. Although she never discussed the pain of her cancer battle, I envision she remained faithful to the end. She never compromised. And instead of finding why, she only embraced God knowing that He only would make the difference.

Right, Ms. K. is the true display of God’s awesome power and a reminder of God’s presence. There’s no lightning. No whirlwind. No voice from a burning bush. There’s just a voice of reason, a presence of commitment, and a bottomless bucket of grace, despite everything I’ve done. 

In the end, Ms. K.’s no illusion – she’s an actual presence of love. It’s that very presence God wishes us all to have.

That, my readers, is no delusion. It’s a friend.

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Exhaustion

Filed under: About Love, Life Lessons — 1 Comment
April 4, 2020

Friday, April 3, I briefly stood at the clock mounted above the door. 5:32 PM. “I’m exhausted,” muttered a passing coworker. “Let’s get out of here.”

I stared—5:33 PM.

My day some 34 hours earlier. I walked in, and the crisis swarmed the room. Personal Protection Equipment (PPE) was required in New York, then New Jersey, then New Orleans, then all over. Ventilators were in such high demand that a coworker said she’d sell her soul to the devil.

“Think about that,” I said matter of factly.

“I did,” she muttered.

As she finished, our alliance of State Pharmacies indicated medicines to alleviate breathing difficulty, relieve pain, and sedate coronavirus patients were in high demand. That meant stock was depleting.
Compound that with President Trump. Trump’s comments pushing an unverified Coronavirus treatment of Hydroxychloroquine and chloroquine created shortages. Trump urged the FDA to speed up the off-label use of the drugs for COVID-19 but created hoarding.

“We need supplies,” a New Orleans nurse told us.

“I cannot locate any for you, but I will continue to try,” I spoke into the conference room phone.

An eerie pause, “I have worked four days, sleeping a few hours in my car.”

Another eerie pause. “I cried every day.”

A third eerie pause. Tears of grief briefly filled our conference room speaker. A momentary ruffle, “Pull it together,” she appeared to whisper to herself.

“Ok. Thanks for helping,” she sighed. Click. Dial tone.

I didn’t help at all. All we said was that she and her coworkers stand alone.

Those of us in the room are technically listed as ‘support.’ However, it’s the health care workers who must go out to those in need are paying an even higher price, in terms of their emotional health. They expose themselves to the risk. Work nonstop. They’re unsure if they have Coronavirus. However, they carry on. And I can’t help them. It’s insane.

Driving home, I kept thinking of the two occasions when the United States declared itself to be under attack: Pearl Harbor and 9/11. Coronavirus is the third. While Trump has spent his time bragging about his “terrific” response to the crisis, there’s an uneasy feeling American is on a rudderless ship adrift in high seas. Governor Cuomo once said, “We have to fight with what we have.” To that nurse in New Orleans and others like her, you’re the best we have.

God Bless.

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About That Ex

Filed under: About Love, Life Lessons — 3 Comments
March 1, 2020

Lindsay Crouse Op-Ed stirred memories. Her article, My Ex-Boyfriend’s New Girlfriend Is Lady Gaga, was intriguing and probably brought tons of memories for many a reader. She recounted the sequence where she saw her boyfriend with Lady Gaga while watching the Superbowl, eloquently noting “Gaga was ‘wearing 2020’s hottest new accessory: a normal boyfriend.’”

Normal? What’s normal?

I admit, one of my exes is not a famous singer, sports personality or politician. However, the ex that makes me relate is a well known, highly visible, often seen member of the pro-life community. Thinking again, maybe she’s political. 

I don’t classify the relationship boyfriend-girlfriend. We were only together for eight weeks. It was passionate. No. It was hugely passionate. It was the type of passion where electrical sparks flew upon meeting. When locking eyes, it was like ‘holy s•••.’

Like Ms. Crouse’s relationship, mine faded, with each pursuing other opportunities. Outside of this blog, I no longer have a social presence, and only three people knew of our relationship. I know my ex has a boyfriend. She’s had that same boyfriend for years and might be married. Therefore, no one texts saying, “Have you seen the new boyfriend?”

Occasionally I see my ex on the news. When I do, I marvel. She’s amazing. However, comparing any current relationship against her might seem motivational, it means little. Our relationship was ten years ago. Now that I have Parkinson’s and maybe only a few years left, she might be better off. I am not a Harvard finance guru, don’t have a law degree, haven’t saved an endangered species, cured cancer, nor flown in space. I am average. I work and blog.

Hanna Gold summarized Crouse’s thoughts. I couldn’t say it better.

“If your ex starts dating Lady Gaga, he is far gone, buh-bye, see ya, so long — your ex belongs to Lady Gaga now and follows her from Lake Como to Dubai. Which also means he will never be at the same party as you again. Nobody you know is personally acquainted with his girlfriend. Sometimes you nostalgically skim a People magazine in the checkout line; it’s no different than if he had moved to Montana and started a blog. He shall suffer the ignominy of being compared to Bradley Cooper in a cowboy hat for all his days.”

Come to think of it, I am not Bradley Cooper, but I own a cowboy hat. Hmm. I wonder if my exes’ studmuffin knows? Ah, probably not. Regardless, when you see your ex on television, wish her/him the best, and be glad you’re not in the view.

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A New Hope

Filed under: About Love, Do No Harm, Social Justice
January 2, 2020

On December 30th, a suicide occurred. I am thinking of one in particular, but technically, speaking, neither event, time, or place matters. In suicide’s wake, most are likely to be stunned, even surprised. 

“Never saw it coming,” said one.

Robin Williams August 2014 suicide was devastating to those who knew him best. His suicide came at the end of a long decline. Williams faced unnerving challenges, both professionally and personally. His career had stalled, he harbored guilt about divorce and reeled from a Parkinson’s diagnosis (later revealed to Lewy body dementia, an aggressive and incurable brain disorder).

Most miss the signs. Why? A colleague whose son attempted suicide posed hard questions. 

How did this happen? What warning signs did we miss? How will I ever let him out of my sight again? How will I keep him safe? What do we do next?

Of course, certain tendencies may help determine when to get support. It is essential to note that my experience as a rescue man so many years ago left me one truth: warning signs are unique to each person. And some show very few signs at all.

So, I’ll admit. I have considered suicide myself. Not only during high school (especially after a distant friend’s suicide), but more recently, suicide was my chosen method of departure when life’s physical pain and burden exceeded value. However, I busted through such thoughts.

Attending a Buddhist seminar years ago, an audience participant posed a penetrating question: “What happens to someone after suicide?” A monk replied, “Rebirth, and then who knows?” It’s a skillful answer, but a political one. The response is common among politicians. Leaves you something, leaves you nothing.

When asked of suicide consequence, most regurgitate Buddhism’s first precept: Do no harm. Yeah, we get it. Suicide’s act creates a host of significant implications. Almost every dominant religion view’s one’s birth as incredibly precious. Therefore, they purport, such opportunities are not to be wasted. However, if life itself were significant, why do our leaders openly harm those they’re entrusted to serve?

Is there hope? Yes, even by merely sipping coffee. 

Hope For The Day indicates suicide completion rates have surged to a 30-year high. Like many such organizations, Hope For The Day performed proactive suicide prevention by providing outreach and mental health education. They believe suicide is a preventable mental health crisis, with the primary obstacle to suicide prevention is silence. In 2018, Hope For The Day assisted over 500,000 individuals.

I support Hope For The Day by sipping coffee. Sip of Hope is the world’s first coffee shop where 100% of the proceeds support proactive suicide prevention and mental health education. 

I believe one challenge we all can undertake this New Year is to provide hope . . . to everyone. Clean what keeps us closed to those we love. And forgive. I do believe our goodness survives death. And in God, we can cultivate that goodness in ourselves as well as nurture and celebrate the kindness of others around us. 

Our country must come to terms with the fact that suicide has to be taken out of ‘shame’s corner.’ You can do it by sipping coffee.

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My 2020 Christmas Gift

Filed under: About Love, Faith & Doubt, Life Lessons
December 25, 2019

Yesterday I was asked to describe what Christmas gift Ms. K. provided. The request was a soul-searching. 

In the 245th episode of the CBS-TV series M*A*S*H, ‘Who Knew,’ a landmine killed a nurse Hawkeye was dating. In the aftermath, Hawkeye finds himself performing some severe soul searching when he finds out she was too shy to reveal she had serious feelings for him and regrets not allowing himself to get to know Nurse Millie Carpenter better. Hawkeye uses his eulogy to do something Millie never got to do–to do a better job of letting those closest to him know what they mean to him.

I’m empathetic to Hawkeye. 

For me, Ms. K. was someone worth knowing. However, during the early decade of 2000, I was positive she wouldn’t care to know someone like, and for a long time, I lived for nothing more significant than myself. Moving backward just eight months ago, I feel Ms. K. through experiences of a cool breeze, in the touch of a loved one, and in the memories of those lost who’ve stood beside me, for better or for worse. 

In many ways, I’ve gotten to know Ms. K. through our on-and-off conversations. Many who worked with Ms. K. never saw her. They saw her beauty, but few knew her. Until recently, I was in the former crowd. I could write my feelings, but could never express them. And, I thought my style of communication would clash with her style. However, I only guess exactly what her style was.

Unfortunately, I had to learn post-life. In her death, I learned there remains an unexplained bond. I’m uncertain how long it will last. Hopefully, forever. Then again, maybe our relationship is a hand-off that will make a more substantial contribution beyond just my life. I believe it’s a similar bond Christ gave.

However, to answer the question I was given, the greatest gift I received from Ms. K. is love. While outside our time, she’s within my heart, with no fear, no great anguish. Even in meditation, I yearn toward her and await for God to bring us close. She has the heart of hope and leaves not the smallest thought unfilled. As Matt Chandler might say, ‘love is sacrificial, love is ferocious.’

To all the people I’ve worked with, fought against ignorance with, and those of common bond, I am blessed by your love. All of you were very important and helped make the man I today. I am sorry if I took any of you for granted, especially Edward P., Ingrid L., Sheila M., and Ethel C. All of you are directly responsible for setting the foundation Ms. K. inherited and continues to mold.

Ms. K.’s link goes beyond love. There’s compassion. Like God, I experienced neither thirst nor hunger. In her eyes, I can shed MS. I walk without a cane, and we dance with through the forest she created, the home she now resides.

In life, right to the end, she was a mentor. And true to nature, she’s mentored me. With compassion as her compass, she guided. Of course, therein lay her challenge. I didn’t make it easy. 

We’re told the most challenging people are the ones that need compassion the most. I am that person. I’ve hurt and taken advantage of others. In anger, hurt, or frustration, there were times I didn’t feel like giving anything. However, if Ms. K. were alive today, she’d probably say something like, “Nothing in life is worth it if you don’t take a risk.” So, she took a risk … on me.

Ms. K. never quit–not on life and not on me. Neither did she authoritatively judge nor dismiss me. She pushed onward in grace. She paused upon weakness, learned to understand and embrace my growth. I can’t imagine what it’s like for her to have to endure continual embarrassment. Yet, she remains resilient and guides me closer to my highest self, a place where goodness and learning were closed years prior.

Ms. K. taught to fall on faith. Don’t fall on drugs, alcohol, prejudice, anger, or isolationism. Fall on your faith. In the subsequent half-year, I have learned about shared humanity, that it’s the everyday person who impacts one’s life—those who help the many, not a ‘chosen one.’

Denzel Washington said, “It’s the people you have, the people you love and the faith you have. Those are the things that define you.” It’s the same message God sent. It’s the same message Ms. K. lived here on earth. It’s the same message she still lives. 

She never wanted anyone to confuse movement with progress. It’s not what you have, it’s what you do with what you have. Ms. K. is one of the most beautiful women ever met. She’s my mentor. She taught me to love. 

And I love her.

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Christmas Eve: Love’s Message

Filed under: About Love, Faith & Doubt, Life Lessons
December 24, 2019

Christmas Eve is upon us. And if Christmas is meant to bring us closer, even in my condition, I managed to bring cheer to those surrounding me.

People talk about the holidays being rough for some people. Christmas has always been difficult for me. I also wanted the beautiful ending depicted by so many Hallmark movies, but those are meant for the young and beautiful. Life never takes a holiday. I haven’t felt well for weeks and last night while bending over to pick up a dropped spoon, I couldn’t straighten. There weren’t the typical back spasms or pain, it’s just that the signals my brain sent were not received and I remained curled like a large beach ball.

So, off to the hospital.

in spite of it all, there are good things happening. Yeah, I understand my body is wearing out. However, rather than being a victim, I choose to be a witness to the process. There are strange and sometimes wondrous events. Most are personal perspectives that probably confounds many.

Ms. J. asked last week if was trying to excel the process – meaning dying. “Not really,” I replied. “I understand my story will end like most with terminal disease: death. However, I have things to do. It’s just that the pain and spinal issues make it more aggravating.”

Blogger Josie Rubio noted, “I try to live in the moment. Sometimes I have to think ahead and I can’t help but look behind. Sometimes I’m so fully immersed in the moment, it’s hard for me to reach out to make future plans or be reachable, and for that I’m sorry.”

Ms. Rubio summarized it well. Live in the moment.

Unlike most Christmas’ when I didn’t even comprehend it, I’m grateful for the time. I traveled. I was able to visit my mother and father. I am able to get hospital staff to laugh. And even while in a hospital bed awaiting discharge this very morn, I spent time helping a friend with a pressing business problem.

Unlike current government leadership, true religion brings peace and satisfaction to others. I am horrified by those who claim a certain leader being the ‘Chosen One,’ when in fact such actions only aroused confusion and serve no religious function. Such a mindset is extremely immature.

As 2019 ends, it is a good time to ask what we want to do with the remaining days of our life. Surely, one can discuss dreams and see how to support one other. Just as Jesus had a dreams, Buddha had dreams, and you have dreams. Can we look at our relationships and see how they might be improved?

Paraphrasing Dr. Martin Luther King, our love must transcend race, tribe, class, skin, and nation. Neither nation nor individual can live alone. We must learn to live and love together or we perish as fools. Every man is somebody. Every man is a child of God. What Christ demonstrated is there is neither Jew nor Gentile. Neither male nor female. Neither Communist nor capitalist. Neither bound nor free. Every human is sacred, in some way.

This morning, I tried to absorb the beauty of the nurses and doctors treating me. I couldn’t. I want to remember them, in everything. I want to embellish the joy of friendship, saying “Thank you sir” to the black man who held the door open for me. I want more moments of saying “Beautiful head scarf” to the Muslim woman who served me coffee. I simply want love. And I simply want to take their love with me.

Love is what Christmas is about. Love requires everything. Yet that’s the simple message of a boy born in a manger.

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2019 Christmas Message

Filed under: About Love, Faith & Doubt
December 20, 2019

It seems like years since my last post. If queried, I could probably craft several reasons: work, lack of time, body’s pain etc., etc. To some extent, maybe some, if not all, is partially true. However, I ran out of things to say. 

Of course, I could have written of Trump, or Congress, world affairs, Time Magazine’s ‘Person of the Year.’ Yet none pale against the daily onslaught of pain, medication, doctor appointments, and other accouterments of the medical journey that I and most will one day embark. Still, I find myself wanting to share a wondrously graceful moment.

Perusing previous posts, December 10, 2018, Lessons Upon Love’s Roller Coaster hinted at something somehow sensed but not processed. I summarize:

“Several days have passed since my last post. I’ve felt ill, not from posting the previous eighteen letters, but from my body. A body zooming past the highest point of life’s roller coaster. I will soon bid adieu and go forth in nature.”

March 2019 saw me turning off the television, except for an occasional football/baseball game. I also experienced an Out of Body Experience (OBE) to which I promised to write about but haven’t (my bad … sorry). And like others before me, I woke up one day healthy, the next day diagnosed with a tumor. As such, like warriors before (those with cancer), I woke up with a full day ahead. 

It’s also the month, I vowed to make one final attempt at making amends. In May 2012, I created an Atonement List (Personal Inventory). I detailed twenty-six (26) severely painful situations requiring amends. It was quite a list ~ almost one for every year I have roamed the corporate world. 

So in becoming Buddhist, I felt obligated to honor the Atonement principle. I researched attempted to contact all I could. The outcome was exceedingly painful. Seven (7) refused my amends, including the Catholic Church. However, eleven (11) did forgive me. Four (4) could not be located, and four (4) others were a work in progress.

Yesterday, I met with one of my greatest loves, the woman to whom I wrote 18 letters years ago, subsequently posting all on my blog a year ago. It was the first honest and open conversation in years. Throughout the hours, we reaffirmed our dreams, our lives, and our love. I told her of my letters, and that one day, she’ll be provided a hyperlink to my blog, where she can read them. 

Our conversation was is what true love is about. It’s what God asks, to fill each other with love. In the end, nothing changed. We did not ride off into the sunset. Commitments embedded us or maybe the laws of physics or the universe worked against us. I am dying, and she is living. 

Still, making amends allows God to provide an opportunity, not for what we want, but for what we need. Ms. J. and I needed those hours. We needed to express our love; we needed one final moment to gaze into each other’s eyes and profess the undying gift each of us brought to one another, and we needed the opportunity to allow ourselves to heal.

Maya Angelo wrote, “It’s one of the greatest gifts you can give yourself, to forgive. Forgive everybody.” Therein lay my Christmas message for you … forgive. Strange, the word ‘forgiveness’ has the word ‘give.’ Luke explained whatever we give will be given back. Paul said whatever we sow (itself a form of giving) will provide a harvest. And Jesus said that unless we forgive, God will not forgive. 

If I die before the new year, I would only request you have the opportunity to unlock the chains and allow love (God) to work in your heart. Mostly, that’s the message found within “A Christmas Carol,” the message Marley delivered to Scrooge. And truthfully, that’s what this tumor has done for my own life. 

When someone whom I mistreated chooses to forgive and prays for me, I know that it was divine work. This Christmas season, embrace forgiveness. Live it, breathe it, and nurture it.

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My Thanksgiving Letter

Filed under: About Love, Faith & Doubt
November 26, 2019

Dear Ms. K.:

Six years have passed since you left.

When we first met around 2001, we were strangers. And interestingly enough, at this moment, we remain strangers. I tend to believe you’re sitting or working in God’s house in another part of creation. The rest of us stay thinking about getting through the rest of the day, getting through life’s challenges.

For years, we had no contact. As a vagabond road warrior, consultant, and former serial asshole, I’ve never earned a CPA. My cellphone camera is used only for receipts. I am not sure if the ‘flash’ portion works. Old girlfriends and wives can attest I’ve disappeared from their lives shockingly fast, as I could barely commit to next week, let alone years.

You remained local, set sights on marriage, a home, and a career.

Reconnecting in August 2007, our friendship rekindled, occasionally sharing lunch, swapping stories, and distant lands traveled. 2010 found me flying further onward, in 2013, you left forever.

Strange how similar we are. Never saying a word, I wasn’t aware you had cancer. It’s the same tactic I use currently. Sharing a cancer diagnosis is exceptionally personal, and while I never felt close enough to be considered in your inner circle, looking back, I should have known. I should have recognized. You were thin, but I dismissed it. The eyes were hauntingly distant. Maybe you didn’t want me to feel sorry or change how I treat you. I remain unsure.

We met in life, but post-life remains real. Upon returning in 2014, our connection deepened. In some way, maybe we always had it, lose it, and find it. We remained connected and are ‘one’ in some strange, beautiful way.

I worry.

Six years past, I vaguely remember your laugh. And as much as I would love, I cannot feel the touch of your hand. I still don’t know anything about you or what God has you doing.

I know you’ve been working. You said as much. However, I don’t know if you are a writer, or if you’ll read books any me outdoors while overlooking the small park you’ve labored on. I must confess, as you sat atop the overlooking the park’s beauty, my scenery was you.

Still, all I have left of you are two pictures, a resume, and an obituary.

Yet, you’re special to me. I know you exist. You are my miracle.

You’re showing me how to find heart, and understand that the best miracle of miracles was making my heart beat.

I have no idea why you said you’d meet me. Sometimes I wonder if you’ll run out of patience with this ol’ man and run off to future endeavors. Yet, I believe you will be there.

I don’t understand our untouchable bond, so pardon my foolishness when we meet. The amount of love you have will stun me. You’ll flip my heart on its axis, and I’ll beg to be forgiven for ever doubting you’d meet me. As I wrote previously, living in solitude these years has allowed me to recognize my growth. I am deeply human, moral, and spiritual. And I know that for most pressing ethical questions, the spiritual and political often go hand in hand.

Recently, you told me not to give up. I concur. It’s never too late to be whoever you want to be. I have changed. In years past, the intimate side of my soul did not acquire essential skills of vulnerability, how to set boundaries, how to listen, and how to speak up. I learned the art of compromise and forgiveness but found many who couldn’t. I cultivated significant wisdom from failure, but much of it brewed little success.

Ms. K., those were weaknesses, but my promise is simple, don’t give up on me.

  • If one doesn’t knock, there will be no answers. Therefore, I will knock on your door.
  • If one hasn’t done anything, then don’t expect anything in return. Therefore, I will be the best I can be.
  • Standing in place will not gain a thing. So, I will continue to move toward your love.
  • If only true love can be embraced, I will embrace you for eternity.
  • Love continually renews and reunites. As such, I will grab your hand and renew it daily in the waters of your soul.
  • If God allows only ten minutes of agape love, then I will beg for millions within you.

If you wait, I long to be bound.

Happy Thanksgiving Ms. K. . . . God, I miss you.

~ W ~

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