"I've never been so sure of something in my life", he says. We're on the phone. He's crying.
He's very close to my heart, and has played many roles within my life. Sometimes like a father, sometimes a brother, sometimes a son. It's complicated. It always is with those you love. I'm hearing music again.
I hear the vehemence and desperation in his words. He loves her. He knows deep down she loves him too, he says. If they could move past his mistakes he knows that they could have a beautiful forever. These are the things he says to me. Part of me wants to warn him that even though he knows he's right, he could be completely wrong.
I can't tell him that. I won't. I listen and nod on the other side of the phone.
It's a beautiful night tonight. The lights from the city sparkle so softly. It calms my senses and my nerves.
But that's not what this is about.
He sounds exactly like I did not that long ago. Makes sense if you knew him, since we're cut from a very similar cloth. That was before undertaking a short period of personal revenge on an entire
gender, waging an unecessary emotional war that could never have a victor, except for maybe the crumpled bedsheets that weren't so cold as often. It's easy to allow yourself to be nothing more than a physical object when you delude yourself into thinking you're the one in control.
I was sure I was the one who was winning.
Hope he doesn't do the same thing.
At one point you have to make yourself accountable.
I am the recurring theme.
I always have been.
As is he. He doesn't see that yet.
How long can he run from himself?
I love the nights here. The breeze off of Puget Sound breathes gently into my ear, tickles my neck.
I'm hearing more music.
It's not about this.
I'm glad that dark time is over. Thank God for the closest of friends who helped me feel real love. Unconditional love. They remind me of laughter and light.
He's still crying. We talk about fate and things that feel "meant to be". We talk a bit longer. I'm trying to offer support and an ear. He's about to go through more hell soon, and I know it. Soon, the unresolved questions will fill his heart leaving little room for much else.
The idea of fate has no humanly identifiable characteristic that can empathize with us.
He will have to learn to be accountable for himself and his actions. It's not a judgment. Just a very painful and unavoidable fact.
"It won't always last", I tell him. "No matter how things work out, it won't always feel this way."
Fate has no recognizable savior to offer the lost some comfort and hope.
He'll feel better while we talk, but when this phone call ends he'll be left with himself. That's when the torture begins. My heart aches for him and all of those I love who are involved in this madness.
If you believe in Fate, you understand that it has no conscience, pulls no punches, spares no blows.
Yet I believe in fate, as much as I believe in God.
I believe that sometimes fate has to be crueler now so that it can be kinder later.
We finally get off the phone. He thanks me earnestedly before hanging up. He really believes I helped him. Maybe I did a little.
Much more music in my heart.
Seattle is so beautiful at night.
No comments:
Post a Comment