We All Die Alone

This is not my best work. I had two comedic posts ready to go, but this week has been so crappy I had to puke this out. In fact, "puking out" is an apt metaphor. Until I get garbage like this out I have a hell of a time moving on. I don't necessarily feel this way any more - consider it a picture of a moment in time.

If this was a song, it'd be a 'B' side. Definitely not album material, but not quite bad enough for the wastebasket. Hopefully I'll feel better by Sunday and I'll get the good stuff out.

You shall not bear false witness against your neighbor. - Exodus 20:16

Lately, I've been in a very dark place. It seems like my entire existence is based on lies, betrayal and failure. My wife has cut me off from almost all contact with my children, the courts are unable to help and every day it seems I am being falsely accused of a new crime. Fighting back is out of the question, as I am unwilling and unable to hurt my kids - their mother has done more than enough of that. I am being buried under a thick black cloud of anger and hate and all I can do is "abide".

I am becoming comfortable with betrayal. My wife betrayed me when she left me. My children betrayed me at the urging of my wife when they lied to the authorities. My mother-in-law betrayed me when she signed the falsified affidavit provided by my wife. And now I have come to find out that my best friend betrayed me when he chose not to tell me what my wife had planned - from her abandonment all the way through her false accusations of child abuse.

But as for the cowardly, the faithless, the detestable, as for murderers, the sexually immoral, sorcerers, idolaters, and all liars, their portion will be in the lake that burns with fire and sulfur, which is the second death. - Revelations 21:8

I don't handle failure very well. I'm okay with losing. If you lose, someone else beat you. When you fail you beat yourself. I've seen and experienced a lot of failure lately. The obvious failure of my marriage. My failure in protecting my children from my ex-wife's manipulations. My failures at work. My failures toward my friends and family.

If I had been smarter or more attentive could I have stopped any of this? Probably not. My ex-wife made her decision. My failure was in choosing to marry her in the first place. I overlooked her obvious character flaws - her inability to tell right from wrong, her manipulative nature, her deceitfulness, her callous disregard for the feelings of others, her inability to recognize her mistakes. I saw all this, but I ignored it. I ignored the obvious because I thought that "love" would be enough to plaster over her problems. I thought that I could help her, to change her. I was so very wrong and now my children get to pay the price for my mistake.

There are six things that the Lord hates, seven that are an abomination to him: haughty eyes, a lying tongue, and hands that shed innocent blood, a heart that devises wicked plans, feet that make haste to run to evil, a false witness who breathes out lies, and one who sows discord among brothers. - Proverbs 6:16-19

I failed in so many ways.

Up until very recently, the worst day of my life was November 20th, 2001. That was the day my father died. You should understand that my father was my best friend and role model. He was (and is) the standard that I try to live my life to. The day he was taken from me was the saddest day of my life.

I was with him when he passed. I travelled from Kansas City to be with him at the end. For some reason it was important to me that he not die alone. You have to understand that my mother never really cared for my father the entire time I was growing up. And she certainly wasn't about to start after he was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer in February. I think the only reason they stayed married was because, to my father, a "promise is a promise" and my mother had nowhere else to go.

My father's end was long and painful, as is typical for this disease. The tumors spread throughout the digestive tract, slowly and steadily choking off all flow. The final end is caused by starvation and dehydration. It's a terrible way to die, even with morphine.

Prior to his death, my wife had chosen to return to Kansas City because she "didn't like hospitals." She was very selfish that way. She is very selfish about everything. My wife will offer some excuse related to her pregnancy - that she couldn't fly.  She had no trouble flying to Cleveland, or flying back to Kansas City, but apparently staying the additional four days was out of the question. She actually returned to Kansas City to work - her job waiting tables was more important to her. Throughout our marriage I could always count on my wife not being there when I needed her most. My son wasn't due for over five weeks and to the best of my knowledge they had hospitals and doctors in Cleveland. No, she chose not to be there. Life is about choices and I could always count on my wife to make bad ones.

Let's not kid ourselves, my ex-wife is not a nice person. Or a good person. No, when you coerce your only son to bear false witness against his father for your own gain you are no longer a good person.

A false witness will not go unpunished, and he who breathes out lies will not escape. - Proverbs 19:5

When my Dad finally passed I was holding his hand. He had no idea I was there. For all intents and purposes, he was alone. He was unconscious for at least twelve hours before death finally came, but even unconscious he still suffered. His face was continuously pinched with pain. When the last death rattle passed I collapsed and could only ask "How am I supposed to do this alone?" I have no idea who I expected to answer in that cold, empty room. Where was God while my father spent more than two days suffering and dying? I was there, and I can tell you that much like my wife, God did not show up to comfort my father.

After my Dad passed, I was alone. Perhaps I was always alone. Are we all born from the dark only to return whence we came?

"We're born alone, we live alone, we die alone. Only through our love and friendship can we create the illusion for the moment that we're not alone." - Orson Welles


 How would you know if your life was an illusion?

Could You Be Loved?

I love Bob Marley's "Could You Be Loved?" Not just because of my misspent youth. I love the message. It's basically a simple jam without any great verses. But there's a ribbon of hope threaded throughout. The question is pretty straightforward "Could you be loved?" I'd like to think yes, but I wonder...

"You ain't gonna miss your water until your well runs dry."

True dat. How many ways can you say you don't know what you've got until it's gone?

Best Friend Brian said something that hit me between the eyes like a two by four. He said "Your wife viewed your marriage as a contract." I think he was right. And when the market soured, she liquidated her interest. I don't know that my wife ever truly loved me, at least not in the way I loved her.

I think I was just in the right place at the right time. When we met, she was broke and living at home with her parents. She hated it. I had a job and offered her a way out. I don't think I was Mr. Right, I think I was Mr. Convenient. I was comfortable and safe. So no, I don't think she ever loved me in the way I grew to love her.

Back to the question at hand "Could you be loved?"

"Say something! Say something!"

I think most people are worthy of love. We all have something to offer. So what is love? My definition is that love is when you affect another person in a way that makes them better for having known you. And when knowing them makes you a better person. My love for my wife made her a better person. I saw this almost every day. I saw things in her that even she didn't.

Curiously, since my wife left I seem to have become a better person without her. I am happier with myself than I have been in years. Sure, life is tough right now, but it seems to have brought out the best in me.

But that's not what I want to talk about.

"Could you be loved?"

For most of my life I have been emotionally unavailable. I preferred to "keep my distance" and held others at arms length to protect myself from being let down or disappointed. Consequently, I have always had a lot more 'acquaintances' than I had 'true friends' and making friends has always been a chore.

I think I developed this as a coping mechanism when I was much, much younger. Growing up, my mother was emotionally distant and I may have learned the behavior from her. I generally didn't let people get close to me and I rarely shared my true feelings with anyone. In college I could count my true friends on one hand, and three of them lived out of town. Prior to my divorce there were many people in my life who I loved very, very much and yet never told them how important they were to me.

"Say something! Say something!"

This may help to explain why I have only been "in love" twice in my life. I'm not sure if two times is normal or about right. I don't know how many times a man is expected to be in love. Truth be told, I haven't had to think about it for a very long time.

The first time I fell in love, it didn't go well. I fell in love with a friend who also wasn't emotionally available. It wasn't intentional and I certainly didn't mean to fall in love with her. It just 'happened'. My friend was damaged by a previous relationship. When I met her she was in a different place than me. Intellectually I think I understood that men and women cannot be friends. Romantic entanglements are almost unavoidable - it's genetics, or chemistry. I had never successfully been 'just friends' with a woman.

Against the odds (and my better judgement) we hit it off.

We hung out on and off for more than a year. I grew to depend on her and looked forward to her frequent visits. We spent countless hours doing absolutely nothing. We grew closer and for a while she became my best friend and confidant. It took months before she let me see her for who she really was. She tried so hard to come across as hard and unflappable - an irresponsible party girl. That was just the armor she wore to keep from appearing vulnerable or being hurt again. But it wasn't who she really was underneath. Underneath she was thoughtful, loyal, sensitive and kind.

And worthy of my love.

"Could you be loved and be loved?"

I remember sitting in the dark on the world's ugliest couch looking out onto Jefferson Avenue after some stupid party. She was wearing the crimson plaid dress that by all rights should have looked silly but was somehow fantastic on her petite frame. Her straight brown hair was pinned back off her ear by a small red clip or beret. We spent what seemed like hours talking about life in our private little corner of the universe. I was sitting behind her and caught the unmistakable strawberry scent from her hair. She turned her head in such a way that her face was silhouetted in the lights from the passing cars. She was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. If this was a movie, it was the moment I should have kissed her. But I couldn't. I was so confused and afraid. That was the Princess of Darkness. She was my friend and my first love.

I knew she was broken from her previous relationship and I didn't know how to fix her. I was so concerned about ruining our friendship that I couldn't or wouldn't take advantage of the moment. I was sabotaged by my own insecurities and self doubt.

I didn't believe that I was worthy of being loved. I'm still not convinced.

That is my one regret.

"Could you be loved and be loved?"

Fast forward several months. My unrequited and unresolved feelings poisoned our friendship. My friend sensed this, but didn't know how to react. She blocked it out and wouldn't discuss it. Eventually she moved away and I was left with the stench of my cowardice and failure. Our friendship ended because I refused to end our friendship. I refused to make the leap of faith required to shock her system. To get her out of her protective cocoon. To let her know "She could be loved."

"Say something! Say something!"

Since my wife left me I am emotionally broken - almost crippled. I've lost control of my feelings and I am unable to keep anything inside. Now that I am the one who is irreparably broken, I'm left with only the question, "Could I be loved?"

I just don't know...