Saturday, February 13, 2010

Dear Friend, part II (Dear Potter Part V)

The old Fool's letters continued to be delivered, the latest one arriving at the doorstep of one of his most faithful companions throughout the last months of the struggle that was not to be successful.

The usual greeting we have become accustomed to by now, but which still manages to strike emotion in the hearts of those recipients reading the one final love note and missive from their departed friend, opens this new communique:

Dear Friend,


No tears accompany this greeting, though the eyes of our current reader do mist over. They have spent too long wet these past few weeks, and now have a constant shadow of sadness left.

My beloved, my cherished, my loved...my friend. I am writing this with a heavy heart, for we were not able to have this conversation in person. I had been preparing these words to speak with you, when you were called away to duty elsewhere. I am sorry that it took me so long to come to the words which I needed to share with you, and now that I can share them, must be done from so far away.

Contrary to what he had believed, the friend's countenance becomes lachrymose recalling that sad day. He had longed to stay, but duty had intervened, and he had been recalled to active service for another six month stint away from home. He had considered fighting the order, but the Fool had urged him to follow through with his commitments. With a heavy heart, he had left, but had not been able to return until the cold stone marker was all he could grasp of his long time mentor and confidant...the memory still a bitter pill.

My friend, my brother, I do rejoice in the friends I have. I derive strength from your support. Though I'm broken, bloodied, and too tired to get out of bed for more than these few minutes to share my thoughts with you, I know that tomorrow is another day, and that I'll be able to face it and what it brings. It won't be easy, but it will be doable.


Not every day is a walk in the park. I sincerely thought I was having a heart attack when I went to bed a few hours ago. My chest ached, I could move my fingers, but I could feel nothing in them. A stab of pain went from my shoulder down to my elbow. As I lay there, I almost felt relieved. It meant that my sweet Potter agreed with me: I wasn't up to the task, and He was going to make sure the choice to face down my many personal demons was no longer mine.


I fell asleep, comforted in the fact that I'd written to most of the people I cared about in recent moments, and that I'd spoken to all who I loved and left them with good words the last time I did.


But then I woke up several hours later, and dragged myself to the bathroom. I looked in the mirror for a long, long time, and realized that this was not yet the time. I'm still here, I'm still driven, and I'm still hungry for this life and work. With the Potter's grace, and the love and trust and support of those of you who I turn to in my most difficult hours, I will face down this challenge and overcome. I need to rest now, but tomorrow the nose goes back to the grindstone. The steel must be constantly be worked, sharpened, toughened. I'll make it through, and I'll be a better person because of it all.


These words were the cruelest so far...the optimism that had not played out...the positive thinking that had been worth..nothing. The hot tears kept coming, as the friend paused, sinking just a little deeper into the bitterness that had become a constant companion these past few weeks. Of all the people to lose...could not the Potter have decided to take someone a little less...valuable?

I love all of you, I cherish all of you, and I thank all of you for all your trust and support. In these days when I can feel so alone and so detached from the world, it is good to know that these thoughts I pour into my machine make it through the blackness and out into your hearts and minds where I can feel your prayers and your steadfastness.


The friend's jaw set even tighter...the determination to allow the bitterness to wash over him was almost completely set in stone.

And yet, my friend, I can sense that you are not as joyful as you can be...and if you are reading this missive, I am certain that you will be even less joyful than you may have once been. For this, I am sorry...but I hope that you will give me just a few more minutes of your life, pay attention to this old man even in an echo of my presence, and hear my words..hear them very well.


The friend tried...he certainly tried , but at the moment every fiber of his soul screamed anger and rebellion, and listening to the words of his departed friend with the open heart and sincerity they demanded was not the easiest of tasks.

The reality of it all, my beloved, my friend, is that I have not been well for a long, long time. The reality is that it is a miracle that I live to see a single additional day. The reality is that I should have been gone a long time ago, but I have been given many, many, many more opportunities than I could have ever expected out of this old, malfunctioning husk. But the real kicker of a reality is that no matter how dire the situation...we're all in the same boat. Not any single one of us is guaranteed a single additional second of life...not me, not you, not anyone, my friend.


This was a little bit of a disturbing turn of topics...the friend had recoiled even more from considering his own mortality after life had given him too many opportunities to face the mortality of others. Being asked to face this was not something that was very much to his liking...especially not now...


I merely seek to make sure that all my friends are as comfortable with the reality as I am. My beloved friend, I’ve grown quite accustomed to this reality, and have embraced it, accepted it, and am HAPPY for the time I’m given each and every day rather than be bitter about time that was never mine to demand I be granted in the first place. I believe it is the state in which we all SHOULD live, but I know many of us don’t. Sadly, many of us prefer to remain perfectly blind and oblivious to the miraculous gift that each and every single day of life is.


My close friends and I have all loved each other dearly…dearly. I would lay down my life in a heartbeat for any of you, and most of you would do the same for me. Our pain is each other’s pain, our triumph’s, each other’s joy, and our failures, each other’s sorrow and lessons. And yet, we all are subject to this same reality.


There it was again...that unpleasant feeling, that mortality being rubbed in his face...he was starting to wish he had left this letter sealed and stored...


But here is the true miracle, my friend. This reality, it is a scorpion with no stinger. It is a shadow with no caster. It is a barking dog with no bite. It’s not something to fear, dread, or loathe. At least not in my life, dear one. I will have had a full life, no matter what, and I have an undying faith that I will be pleased with what I see when it is over.


I see peace, not dread. I feel an urgency only to benefit as many young lives as I can, not to worry about how to extend my own. I do, however, feel a responsibility to take care of myself when and how I can so that I can do whatever is reasonable to achieve this goal. But we must, we MUST be able to live richly and fully within the confines of that reality, my friend. Because if the sad day should ever come when I no longer get to enjoy the blessed joy of being with the friends I love, I would want them to be happy for the times we did have rather than angry at the time we were never promised to be given.


And there it was...happy for the times we had, not the times we were never promised. A simple phrase...but a life-changing implication. Can one really choose to live with such a focus?

My friend...I miss you dearly, and I am certain that you miss me. But, we have so many memories...so many blessings...so many joys. So many points in our lives that were not there for either of us to claim as our rightful possessions, but which we were granted anyway.


So, I ask you, my friend, my beloved...what choice are you willing to make today? Will you be a prisoner, a victim, an unwilling conscript in the death march that is life? Or will you apply yourself to the days that you have been given? Will you strive to fill each with the warmth, love, dedication, passion, and LIFE that you can? Will you put off the things that you must do, will you put off happiness and joy? Or will you make each day a worthy final one? Which is better, I ask...a lifetime of hope in some future happiness, or a lifetime of wonderful last days? Be it one final day or thousands...I know where my choice lies, my friend.


Now, as I bid you one final goodbye, I beg that you consider my words carefully my friend. Do not let the root of bitterness take hold...do not allow yourself to waste a single one of your precious days on pointless pursuits. Be strong, be able, and be willing to live the life you have been granted...and make it count. Make each and every single one of those gifts we call days count, and enjoy a life of few regrets.


Goodbye, my friend, and I wish for you a lifetime of joy unparalleled,


The Old Fool


I wonder...do I have what it takes to change my perspective this much? I don't know, my friend...but I will try...Goodbye sweet friend...goodbye, and I hope that the next time we meet I will have given you more reasons to be proud than ashamed....

--
The Old Fool

“If liberty means anything at all it means the right to tell people what they do not want to hear.” -George Orwell.


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Blog - Musings of an Old Fool by Juan Lopez is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.
Based on a work at lopezj4141.blogspot.com.

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