Being sick is very hard to admit to myself more than to others. It's like admitting defeat - throwing in the towel. I don't like people treating me differently because of my challenges. I shouldn't get a free pass because of my circumstances.
It takes a lot of hardwork and continued efforts throughout the day to pretend everything's alright. The amount of focus it takes to keep the negative things corraled requires mental stamina; sometimes the difficulties show through the cracks of my well-crafted façade. And, there are times that I just want to let everything go.
So, what do I want? If I'm not looking for sympathy, then what? I guess I'm looking for empathy but I can't trust others to really understand because they don't know what it's like. I don't need someone to take care of my physical needs. I need someone to instinctively know when I need a break, when my soul is more weary than my body.
I need a partner, an equal who I can lean on while he's also leaning on me. Someone who fights for his vitality as much as I do and gives life to others even when there's not much left to give.
When I met Edward, that's what he brought to me: the realization of what I've been looking for and finding it sitting at a bookstore café. The scary thing about finding that is also learning how tenuous and temporary that kind of connection can be. The daily reminder of how precious life can be is also a surrender to fate's fickleness and time's brevity.
Being the one to keep Edward company through the end of his journey was a great honor. I know now why I was chosen to be his travel companion. It's because I was one of the few qualified and equipped to survive walking through what was to follow on my own. But I wonder if I will be as fortunate to fine someone to escort me to my exit. Will I be able to endure my end alone? I guess fear gets all of us regardless of our heroic attitudes. Deep down, we're all just looking for someone to hold on to.
To be continued another time. My head is hurting...
Sunday, November 08, 2009
Monday, October 26, 2009
The Proposal
Making love to her has always been slow and languid. I'm usually gentle, patient and a bit teasing but tonight was just a bit surprising for both of us.
The day started off just like any normal day. We talked on the phone for a bit, making plans for our date. She got off the phone in a rush but not before she's made me blush from my toes to the roots of my hair. That soft whisper on the phone kept popping in my head and thoughts of her swam in my head all day. Most of my day passed in a blur.
I finally made it to the doctor's office and I was anxious to get out of there. I had a few hours left before I see her. But the doctor brought me shocking news that made it harder to concentrate. I heard the words inoperable, no treatment, four months but nothing made sense.
When she appeared at my back door, her smile enveloped me in such warmth. In the car, she played with my hair and talked freely, her other hand waving like she's conducting a concerto. Her usual anecdotes about her kids made me long for something I didn't have. For a few hours, I forgot all about my bad news. I was completely immersed in her life and her presence.
I couldn't wait to get her to my bed. When we finally got there, I kissed her so passionately - not with desire but with a burning need. She was surprised by my enthusiasm but she responded in a way that spurred me further than I thought I was capable. I couldn't get enough of her smell, her taste, the feel of her all over me. She moaned, called my name and dug her fingernails in my skin but it wasn't enough.
I was ravenous and I attacked her like I haven't fed for years. In all honesty, I unleashed all my hidden passions for her that evening. Making love to her was urgent, frantic and intense. I wanted to pull her as close to me as humanly possible, to fuse myself with her. I was hoping that her life force would be enough to sustain me.
When I couldn't hold back any longer, I rolled her under me and thrust myself without any gentleness. I heard a low grunt, almost a growl but could not distinguish which one of us made the noise. I pushed her until I couldn't get any further. I can feel my hipbones almost bruising the softness of her inner thighs. Both of our movements were fierce and the feeling was intense. My passion built up so quickly with very little warning. But before I completely lost myself, I pulled out from her and buried my face between her legs. I drank her sweetness and urged her on. Just when she was getting to her precipice, I slipped back inside her.
I looked deep in to her face. I slowed my movement a bit and said words that I wasn't even aware I wanted to say. “Marry me,” I demanded. Then I moved against her deeply but slowly. When she climaxed, I let myself go and joined her. As I laid on top of her, shivering, panting, exhilarated, I felt her sigh. I was desperately trying to find the words to tell her about my brain tumor but her soft lips against my neck and her fingers trailing on my back were distracting me. She pushed me away from her and looked at me. Then she pulled me closer and whispered in my ear a soft, “yes.”
I am the happiest man in the world. As I watch her sleep in my arms with her leg draped over mine, I can't help but also feel a bit melancholy. I think back to the rest of the day – did I miss an opportunity to tell her the truth? Should I have been forthcoming about my situation before I asked her to commit to me? I am surprised that she accepted me so easily, that she trusts me so explicitly. I hesitate to wake her so she can go home. As I kiss her forehead, I say a quiet pray, “Please, God, don't let me die just when I've found a reason to live.”
Sunday, August 16, 2009
In Response to Your Letter
This is in response to a letter I received six years ago and after some developments have taken place. Originally written on 12/14/08.
C-
So it's quite reversed this time around. I'm listening to EBTG around the holidays, on a plane coming home with passengers carrying toys and other gifts for their loved ones. I'm thinking of you, wondering how you're doing; how are you coping with all of what's happened and what you know is in store for the future.
I won't deny that being with you, spending time with you when you're relaxed, focused and casual... It's been like coming home. I missed being with you that way. No pressure, no ultimatums, no innuendos. Just you and me, and the truth of what we are. It's like I hit the "play" button on my MP3 player and the music start off exactly where I stopped the last time.
I'm not going to say it and I won't ask. I think at this revolution, it will either stop where we hope it would or spin so out of control to disintegration; stay or leave forever. I just need you to know this time around - you are, have been, and will always be special to me. Thank you.
-K
C-
So it's quite reversed this time around. I'm listening to EBTG around the holidays, on a plane coming home with passengers carrying toys and other gifts for their loved ones. I'm thinking of you, wondering how you're doing; how are you coping with all of what's happened and what you know is in store for the future.
I won't deny that being with you, spending time with you when you're relaxed, focused and casual... It's been like coming home. I missed being with you that way. No pressure, no ultimatums, no innuendos. Just you and me, and the truth of what we are. It's like I hit the "play" button on my MP3 player and the music start off exactly where I stopped the last time.
I'm not going to say it and I won't ask. I think at this revolution, it will either stop where we hope it would or spin so out of control to disintegration; stay or leave forever. I just need you to know this time around - you are, have been, and will always be special to me. Thank you.
-K
Monday, August 10, 2009
A Mother's Letter to Her Son
November 2, 2008
Dear Son,
I had to take a break from reading Perks of Being a Wallflower because my heart aches so much for Charlie.
I see you when I read this book and it makes me sad. But, it also makes me love you more. I'm not going to pretend that I understand everything that you go through - I don't. I do know that there are things I can't fix for you or protect you from. Your mistakes, your pains, your sufferings, your confusion ... all those are there to shape the man you will soon become.
Don't forget though, your joys, hopes, dreams and good memories shape you just as much and are just as important. You will cry and you may feel that no one understands you. No one has to, son. All you need to know is that they love you regardless. They may even love you because of it.
Things won't make sense some days. It may feel overwhelming at times. But remember that most of your days that have already passed and the ones to come have been and will be happy. You might not remember them while you're feeling sad but they do exist.
Live one more day through the bad just to get to the good. When you finally get to the other side of the tunnel (and God knows when that will be), you will know. I lived long enough to get to you, and my life finally made sense.
I love you with all that I was, all that I am and all of who I will be ... forever.
Love, Mom
This is one of the more recent letters I've written to one of my children. I have a series of hand-written notes that I hope to give to them when I die or when an occassion comes up that I feel is appropriate for one of the letters. I don't know why I'm sharing this here but, hopefully, someone who needs to see it will get a chance to read it and feel inspired. Most mothers, I believe, really feel this for their children but don't have the nerve to tell them (like me, perhaps?).
Dear Son,
I had to take a break from reading Perks of Being a Wallflower because my heart aches so much for Charlie.
I see you when I read this book and it makes me sad. But, it also makes me love you more. I'm not going to pretend that I understand everything that you go through - I don't. I do know that there are things I can't fix for you or protect you from. Your mistakes, your pains, your sufferings, your confusion ... all those are there to shape the man you will soon become.
Don't forget though, your joys, hopes, dreams and good memories shape you just as much and are just as important. You will cry and you may feel that no one understands you. No one has to, son. All you need to know is that they love you regardless. They may even love you because of it.
Things won't make sense some days. It may feel overwhelming at times. But remember that most of your days that have already passed and the ones to come have been and will be happy. You might not remember them while you're feeling sad but they do exist.
Live one more day through the bad just to get to the good. When you finally get to the other side of the tunnel (and God knows when that will be), you will know. I lived long enough to get to you, and my life finally made sense.
I love you with all that I was, all that I am and all of who I will be ... forever.
Love, Mom
This is one of the more recent letters I've written to one of my children. I have a series of hand-written notes that I hope to give to them when I die or when an occassion comes up that I feel is appropriate for one of the letters. I don't know why I'm sharing this here but, hopefully, someone who needs to see it will get a chance to read it and feel inspired. Most mothers, I believe, really feel this for their children but don't have the nerve to tell them (like me, perhaps?).
Sunday, August 09, 2009
When He (or She) Doesn't Feel the Same
It happens a lot. You go steady with someone for a long time. He's fun to be with, everything is perfect, it's a bit serious, yet he's still a bit distant. For you, this is the perfect relationship, you won't be able to live without this person, and you're ready to take that plunge. Yet, you hesitate to bring it up because it might spook him. So you wait for little bit more but each second that ticks by brings more impatience.
You finally get the nerve to lay everything you feel out on the floor. He doesn't react exactly the way you were hoping. Then you back-track a little bit saying that you're not really expecting anything, just want to be honest. Then you notice through the following days (or months) that he's pulling back from the relationship. He's not as fun, things are not so perfect, he never wants to talk about anything serious, and he's now really distant. Arguments are starting and now there are tears. So you make the ultimatum (you know which one) and he almost breaths a sigh of relief. He walks away and your pride won't allow you to follow him.
Days and months go by and you're still waiting for him to call. You're daydreaming about the hot and heavy reconciliation and you're still holding on to that dream. You finally see each other, you talk about why you fell apart and he's honest enough to say he wasn't ready for a serious relationship. The sparks weren't there but there was enough to keep you hoping.
Then you find out he just got married. He's happy with his new bride whom he's known for less than half the time he was with you. What gives? You cry, heartbroken once more. You rack your brain for all the wrong things you might have done that scared him off and you can't think of anything. You doubt yourself and obsess over why you lost him to another woman.
The funny thing is there's nothing wrong with you. You didn't do anything wrong or are you any less a woman than the next. It's just that you were not the right one for him. It's not a science, there's no logic that will satisfy you. It's so simple it won't ease the pain you feel. So you wake up one morning determined to start anew. On the surface, you succeed in fooling everyone, even yourself sometimes. But inside, you've developed a hardened layer lest someone tries to break you again. So you end up more alone, more sad, and you lose your glow. Which, in turn, makes you less noticeable, less attractive and more invisible.
You tell yourself you'd rather be alone for the rest of your life. That another heartbreak will make you curl up and die. But aren't you already dead? Not curled up in the corner, yes, but walking, talking dead just like a rotting, decrepit zombie.
You finally get the nerve to lay everything you feel out on the floor. He doesn't react exactly the way you were hoping. Then you back-track a little bit saying that you're not really expecting anything, just want to be honest. Then you notice through the following days (or months) that he's pulling back from the relationship. He's not as fun, things are not so perfect, he never wants to talk about anything serious, and he's now really distant. Arguments are starting and now there are tears. So you make the ultimatum (you know which one) and he almost breaths a sigh of relief. He walks away and your pride won't allow you to follow him.
Days and months go by and you're still waiting for him to call. You're daydreaming about the hot and heavy reconciliation and you're still holding on to that dream. You finally see each other, you talk about why you fell apart and he's honest enough to say he wasn't ready for a serious relationship. The sparks weren't there but there was enough to keep you hoping.
Then you find out he just got married. He's happy with his new bride whom he's known for less than half the time he was with you. What gives? You cry, heartbroken once more. You rack your brain for all the wrong things you might have done that scared him off and you can't think of anything. You doubt yourself and obsess over why you lost him to another woman.
The funny thing is there's nothing wrong with you. You didn't do anything wrong or are you any less a woman than the next. It's just that you were not the right one for him. It's not a science, there's no logic that will satisfy you. It's so simple it won't ease the pain you feel. So you wake up one morning determined to start anew. On the surface, you succeed in fooling everyone, even yourself sometimes. But inside, you've developed a hardened layer lest someone tries to break you again. So you end up more alone, more sad, and you lose your glow. Which, in turn, makes you less noticeable, less attractive and more invisible.
You tell yourself you'd rather be alone for the rest of your life. That another heartbreak will make you curl up and die. But aren't you already dead? Not curled up in the corner, yes, but walking, talking dead just like a rotting, decrepit zombie.
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