A year to remember

With age, wisdom does come.

In a few short hours, 2009 will join preceeding years and fade into memory. What a year it has been. Certain things deserve a second look as they are taken off the bulletin board and packed away.

For the first time in 42 years, I did not have a job. At first the freedom had me as giddy as a schoolgirl with her first beau. But after awhile, the extra time became a negative rather than a positive. I became a television junkie. Mind-numbing shows hour after hour, with a few phone calls from a friend thrown in.

Then I got on a self-improvement jag. I was instructed to sign up for pulmonary rehab by the doctor who saved my life. So with great trepidation, I entered the program. The experience turned out to be fun -- and beneficial. But like a kid with a bag of candy, I overindulged.

Enter Internet addiction. With Obama's $600, I bought a computer. Thus began a connection with more wonderful friends than I would have imagined. And a way to stay in touch with former co-workers.

Through the PHA chat room, I have connected with a core of women who each offers a unique perspective. Such a diversity of backgrounds and personalities, though all true sisters.

Then, of course, there is you. Half of 2009 was you.

You were spinning in your orbit and me in mine. When Mason died, our paths collided. You knocked me into a completely new zone. And what a trip!

We made a connection right from the beginning. From FB inbox to FB chat to Yahoo chat at lightning speed. At 3 a.m. when we were both mysteriously awake; at noon to watch a match; right before you hit the road to Pitt. I shamelessly gave you my heart from the getgo. And you selflessly gave me your life. I was smitten.

Remember how surprised you were that I knew your birthday? The penguin leaves clues? The penguin leaves clues everywhere. I find them in the oddest places.

Pete, you and I received an extra bit of empathy when our psyche was passed out. Empathy is a blessing and a curse. Empathy often paves the way for disappointment. But it also allows us to serve others in remarkable ways.

As the new year nudges its way in, I vow not to forget the generosity of spirit you poured over me in 2009. I vow to try harder to keep your loving spirit going.

Peace and love to you, Mr. Mooney. We were friends. What a great and lasting gift.

No, mailman, no.

Later.

Ends and odds

Can one have writer's block and not be a writer?

The affirmative seems highly likely. I have started today's post many times. I mean how hard can random thoughts be? Did I suddenly run out of them? And what is the opposite of random thoughts? Definite thoughts? Are all thoughts not definite?

Now that I have cleared that up, I can try for random again.

You know we shared a physical trait. I found the gap between your front teeth enduring. I have one too, and I have always been self-conscious about it. I am betting that was why you did not smile in pictures.

Kirsop must be making a killing with the betting coupons. The lads, including Torres, have made him more than a few quid. 'pool still sucks though.

One of my close PH friends is being evaluated for a tx today. She is a young mother of three. I told her she could not die on me. I could not take another death right now. Which sounds awfully selfish of me to be thinking of myself. But I can't help it. Your death devastated me. I am not prepared for another.

In many ways, that last week of your life we were in denial. We talked about the end. But almost in the same breath we were talking about our choices for Europa. Is that because we could not deal with the inevitable except in small doses?

Life is what it is: a paradox.

No mailman for me, thanks.

Later.

Reality vs. anticipation

Your mother is a gracious woman with a little wiseass on the edges. I like her. I knew I would. But there is always the initial awkwardness, the expectations, and preconceived ideas. I am sure she also had some hesitations. After all, I was the stalker cat.

She told me about your last hours up to a point. For that, I owe her more than I can repay. The words gave me a priceless gift at great cost to her. I hope in time we are able to share more.

I feel some guilt too, because I think she did more giving than I did. Those things you can't keep a tabulation of though, they just add up. So next time maybe I can balance the scale a little.

The kaleidoscope of your life changes as more and more pieces are added. Some of the pieces are the same shape, just different sizes. Some of the tiny pieces glow bright red and display jagged edges; others shine with vibrancy. Purple? Oh yeah. Moody with blues as well. The colors encompass the spectrum; the shapes infinite. Yep, that is you; I would expect no less.

Is it possible to hold a grudge for someone else? Kinda like a surrogate grudge holder? Hmmm, I will have to contemplate that one soon. If you want to shed some light, chime right in.

One of my friends says she thinks I lost myself a long time before you died. Even longer ago than when I first started taking meds. So I guess I need to figure out where I got off the path of me and see if I can backtrack or at least head forward in a better direction.

The mailman always rings twice *groan* and I never answer.

Later.

I doubt it

I seem to have lost me along the way.

Doubt has begun to shove aside positive thoughts as it goes about tainting the whole of yesterday. You claimed to be a gull, but I knew gull long before you did. Were we a case of out-gulling the gull? A little revenge factor on the character flaw?

I choose not to believe that. I cannot know; therefore I will not allow doubt to win this round. Doubt is like a colorless, odorless poison that seeps into your very cells. Before you know it, doubt has replaced all the positives.

We had many positives. After all, we both kept coming back. You could have ignored me completely. I think I was more to you than a way to pass time. I know you were important to me. You showed me how to laugh again. True friendship benefits two, not just one.

I am so lost, as I am sure others are. And in many ways I condemn myself for your last week. I so wanted a fairy tale ending, but I would have taken a peaceful one. Was it peaceful? I cannot be sure and that is the painful part. Did you tell me the truth? Were you hedging for reasons of your own? Do I even really want to know?

Your soul was in such pain. I refuse to believe what you expressed was made up for my benefit.

God, I miss you so much.

No mailman for me today.

Later

A good, tough question

One of those silly apps on FB asked, "Will this matter a year from now?"

Gosh I hope so. I would like to think your friendship meant more to me than a fleeting memory of some dude with CF on the Internet. But I can see what you meant about life going on. We have no choice if we stay in this world. The world grinds on with or without us, rather like a perpetual motion machine.

My friend John died several years ago. He had AIDS, but a heart attack claimed his life. I loved John. We waded through young adulthood together, making lots of mistakes and getting by sometimes by the skin of our teeth.

Suddenly we were expected to be respectable denizens of the world. We got jobs and went on with the minutia of our lives.

Occasional cards or calls followed over the years. John always wanted me to write a book about our college days. I always said he would be my muse. The book never got written.

Then I got a phone call from one of John's friends telling me he had died. I was glad for the summer visit that year. The years melted away as we talked about what foolishness we had gotten into.

I know so little about you. Will this cause your importance in my life to fade more rapidly than it deserves? I think I did know the best of you and the worst of you all crammed into six months of talking without the benefit of ever having met you face to face.

The best of you was a shining example to everyone you touched. You possessed so many positive attributes that an accounting of them would make you blush and your head swell even bigger. Haha. Just sayin'.

The last week of your life was so heart-breaking. This is the worst I was talking about because you were in such pain at the core of you. I wanted so much for you to hear what I was saying, to believe what I was saying and to know what I was saying was true. You were loved and people did care.

But you were busy compiling a list of mental wounds. Was it to convince yourself or me? You told me you wanted to leave. I cared enough for you to believe what you said, and trusting that if you did not mean what you said, you would not go. You said you would not forgive me if I took action, and that I believed. I opted to put your wishes above all others and live with the ensuing consequences. I care that much for you.

So I guess a year from now will tell. Hopefully a bunch of us will be in the thick of the action in the Paul Mooney Memorial Fantasy Soccer League. Don't tell, but I still have a secret weapon.

Man, you are too good. We are tied in EPL after yesterday. That is how good you are. Gerrard scored and was your captain. Wow, dude, you are a marvel.

No mail today. Yay.

Later.

Written in the heart

"If ever there is tomorrow when we're not together...there is something you
must always remember...you are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think, but the most important thing is, even if we're
apart...I'll always be with you." ~ Winnie the Pooh

Winnie the Pooh was one of my heroes when I was a child. My daddy read "The House at Pooh Corner" to me more than once. I remember giggling at the tiddly poms; my dad always made them fun.

The books offer great life lessons to adults, too. An author is pretty darn talented when he can write a series that catches the fancy of kids and adults, too. Critics say Milne and his son did not have a storybook relationship. Perhaps that is why Christopher Robin and Winnie were such good friends. Milne sought to rewrite his life, and that of his son, in a more perfect way.

I suppose most authors have their demons. Writing seems to be one way to pry the dark thoughts from the recesses of the mind. Maybe their exposure will somehow change their very nature. Or at least give voice to them so they might be managed.

Friendship is a story of life written in the heart. Some pages are never filled in and some contain so many words they are squeezed into every possible space. On some pages the writing is so messy the words are hard to read. Days, months, years later you finally understand what they say. Other pages the writing is perfect and the message is quite clear and brief.

I miss you my friend. What an impact you made.

The mailman might come today, but I will not be there to greet him.

Later.

On Christmas Day in the morning ...

I seem to have lost the Christmas spirit somewhere. I can see how you might have thought the same.

The season is for family, loved ones. What brings joy for many brings emphasis on the lack of family for others. In this case, family means the traditional one a la Norman Rockwell. A room full of adults laughing and children racing through propelled by a sugar rush.

This season reminds us we have no "family." Are we broken? We all want to be loved. Sometimes, though, we want a love that does not exist. We set the standards so high we fail to see that imperfections leave marks of character and mystery. We cheat ourselves out of the life we think we need.

Perhaps our mission, if you will, in this life is to touch someone in such a way as to change his life. We might not even know it happened. The results might not affect one person, but hundreds. One never knows; but in your case, I know, because you affected me. And many, many others say the same.

"Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might
have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light."

You have no failed deeds to rage about, my friend. You deserve your rest. May peace and love surround you.

The mailman took a holiday.

Later.