And so here we are. I am two days away from having asked you to please not talk to me, still dealing with feelings of humiliation and embarrassment that my libido could master me so fully, and extraordinarily grateful for the step back. Be cause now… now I can tell you the rest of the story – that is to say, how I managed to escape the napalm. Because I went into the pit. Oh, I was covered in it, and sinking fast.
Every second my pulse was racing as one suggestive idea after another formed in my mind. It took all of my concentration to get through work, and I began to feel utterly helpless. Please don’t let me feel like this forever, I prayed silently. Praise the Lord you had no desire to satisfy my advances. I mean, I talked to nearly everyone who would listen about what crazy new challenge I was facing and how shocked I was to be such a slave to an instinct when it began to dawn on me that if I continued this conversation with anyone, I would find myself immersed in a hell I was trying to escape from.
Thoughts have power, as I said before, and so do words. Think about sex for a day and pretty soon you’re talking about it. Talk about it for an hour and pretty soon you’re having it, and you don’t care who it’s with. I saw all of this about to happen. My perception is sharp, like I said, but that doesn’t mean that I have the ability to change my course the moment I see a disaster.
The only thing I can do sometimes is see with stark clarity what downward spiral I’m stuck in. You were becoming as disposable and impersonal as a rebound in my mind, and it was making me sick. There had to be some way out of this, and I would be damned if I was going to let something like the urge to procreate take over my common sense and decency.
But I was finding that I couldn’t do what I wanted to on my own. I needed some power greater than myself to get me out of this mess. So, I prayed again: If I can’t love myself enough to care that I’m sinking, then at least let me love Gabriel enough to get me out of here.
And then suddenly I remembered what came out of my mouth the first time you crossed my path: “Do I know you?” Heh, funny that you were asked that so many times that day.
I remember you were dressed smartly in black slacks and a white button down shirt with the cuffs rolled up mid-forearm. But there was something else; you are fighting your own battle, I think, and so at first glance I recognize a kindred spirit, though there is more still to it than that.
(This is where I get to pay you an honest compliment, as my mind relives our conversations and digests what clues your spirit has revealed about you)
First, you are incredibly brave. I mean think about it. What sort of man does it take to be able to live through the loss of a father when he is at such a tender age? You were thirteen. And then, to soldier on while being treated like baggage by your step-father?
But it gets better, because when you spoke of making amends later on in life – too soon before he left this earth — his passing making him the second father your have survived — well there is courage in that, too. It takes strength and courage to forgive and to let go, and you have both. God considers you strong enough and brave enough to stay here on this earth and help those around you that are dealing with death, and it shows. It takes intense courage to live, and if you are still here, then that means God believes that you are up to the task.
I also remember you saying that you recently lost your best friend as well, and then Diesel disappeared, and you were coming to the conclusion that things weren’t working out between you and Julia whom you’d been with for three years, and on top of all of that, you have a daughter who has extreme allergies that can kill her if you aren’t very, very careful. I don’t know what I would do if my kids had a condition that forced me to keep an epi-pen at the ready. I think I would be a total failure, and that is why God made sure my kids are fine.
There is so much loss you have to deal with, but you keep on going, and somehow amidst all your chaos you managed to totally disarm me with your boyishly charming smile and call me a sweetheart. How did you do that?
So what else? Well, what does it take to be a decathlete? It takes drive, for one. Secondly, it requires astounding mental and physical agility and endurance to switch from one even to the other. Seriously, we’re talking about ten events here. T-e-n. Nevermind that they’re over two days and that it’s just track and field.
Seriously, sprinting, shot put, javelin, pole vaulting… the list goes on. Well, I mean you know what it is, you were doing it, and you’ve got to admit that anyone who can do all that is pretty stinkin’ awesome. It must have been so much fun. And don’t tell me that you don’t do it anymore … you say that and you’re missing the point. If you did it once, you can do it again, and while you may feel like your training days are over (I seriously doubt that), the traits that made you successful at it don’t ever leave. They are part of you forever — they’re just waiting patiently to be utilized more fully – like when you’re good and ready.
Drive, agility, determination, endurance and a strong sense of adventure are what your spirit is made of. A healthy constitution, too, or you wouldn’t be able to tell me the story about blazing a trail over crazy mad terrain on your mountain bike as a kid. I wonder what other adventures you’ve had?
Continue to July 3, 2010 (Part IV) —>
© 2010
