by Tessa Lynne
My dearest love, you have likely been told by now that I am okay. The problem turned out to be a large cyst at the base of my brain. It was easily excised with the new laser techniques, but it could have caused serious problems if it hadn’t been detected early. I have Amelia to thank for averting a delay in my recovery, or worse.
Your letter is here, but I am not past the first page. I have read it three times and still delight in every word. I can’t stop picturing you in my tee shirt, drinking in the scent of me.
I’ve hesitated, but now I feel compelled to tell you that I have figured out where you live. I have spent a lot of time there over the years. Don’t worry, I have no intention of telling Amelia. It is my contingency plan. I know where you walk and have taken those paths myself. We will soon walk there together.
You have your suit and I have some lingerie—is that all we will need for our wedding day? I picture you on the road, stopping at the menswear store, looking at suits—touching them, stroking them, imagining my hand caressing you through the fabric. To know that you are anticipating and preparing for that day brings me great … I am looking for a word between satisfaction and joy … it is a quiet, deep pleasure that I feel to the core of my being.
Michael—your name is still as music to my ears, the sweetest, clearest tones. There is a quote I like from ancient Hindu scripture that fits: “When we love our husband/wife/child more than we love ourselves, we are loving the Lord in them.” I once used the word reverent when writing of you, my husband—this is what I meant.
22. Success and Forgiveness
March
Can you sense my excitement? Do you remember that I wrote to some software companies about my program? One of the largest of them is interested in producing it and will send a rep here next week to meet with me. Sweetness, if I can sell them on this, we will be set for life.
It has been a long, tiring day. I met with my attorney, had lunch with J.T., did some shopping, and now I am exhausted. The news hasn’t all been good. Maybe Amelia has already told you of the test results—the bone marrow test was a disappointment.
I have just sought my inner sources of strength and power, and it has left me in a reflective mood, more aware of the changes tak-ing place in my body. I have gained twelve pounds, my skin has a healthy color, and my hair is growing back. I have better muscle tone and the dark circles under my eyes are gone. The changes have been so gradual that I hadn’t noticed them.
Michael, you were the star of my dreams last night, a series of three. In the first, I am running along the edge of a lake, splashing in the water, energetic and happy. You are the reason for my joy, my raison d’etre. In the next, I am sitting on top of a piano, ecstatic, looking at sheet music. I hold one up and read the title: “The Greatness of the Male Body.” Whose body but yours can it have been written for? In the last, I am lying on my bed, crazy with anticipation. You are running down the hall, coming closer, calling my name. I woke up expecting to hear your footsteps. As I faced reality, I reminded myself that it won’t be long before my dreams come true.
My love, I haven’t written much about my father. He is an alcoholic who was physically and mentally abusive to all of us. His sister in California just called to tell me the alcohol has finally taken its toll. He is now in a nursing home and is incoherent much of the time. Her call has brought back a hoard of unpleasant memories that I had sealed off in some dark recess of my mind.
I wish you were here, darling. I want to lose myself in you and not think about this. I hadn’t spoken to my aunt since my father was in legal trouble, five years ago, and I refused to pay for his defense. Now she thinks I should pay his expenses, what isn’t covered. I don’t want to have anything to do with him. I feel nothing for him, not even hatred anymore. There was a time it wouldn’t have been wise for us to be in the same room; he is the only one I have ever thought I could be violent with. I wish you were here. I wish my mother and Danny were alive. I wish … I wish ….
My sweet love, I could feel your pain as I read your letter. Imagine that you are here with me—you can hear the love in my voice and see the caring in my eyes. I know you are feeling anger, and I expect beneath it is a feeling of loss, for besides the physical and emotional pain your father inflicted on you, he robbed you of your childhood.
I think it is natural for you to feel no obligation to help him, to feel you owe no duty to one who was not the father or husband he should have been. I wonder if it is possible for you to see him, not as a father, but as a fellow human being with all of his flaws. Can you see within him some remnant of the young man with whom your mother fell in love?
Zachary once told me that forgiveness is a lesson of almost every lifetime, but it is not easy when the other hasn’t taken responsibility for their actions, which may not be possible now. To the extent that you hold on to the pain and anger, give them a place in your deepest self, does that not prevent love from flowing and exerting its healing power? Not that forgiveness can be given lightly, as simply a mental construct—it is soul work.
I have made some presumptions. I make no claim to know exactly what is in your heart. Michael, can you feel my love? It recognizes your pain but wants you to be free of it. I want to be there to give you the support that words cannot give.
Amelia somehow knows about my father and that I have my presentation today. With her usual calm, she said, “Michael, it would be wise for you to take all matters one step at a time.” So first, I need to get through this meeting. I am wearing a gray tweed jacket, black slacks, and a black and gray striped tie. I have never given a presentation like this or one with so much at stake.
It is over—now we wait. I think I did fairly well. I went through the program and then fielded their questions for nearly two hours, and now I am mentally exhausted. They made no offer and they took no material with them. It would be almost impossible for them to pirate the project, but it has happened to others so I have taken some precautions. I have invested over three years of my life in putting this all together, and I want to protect that investment—our future.
I had been doing a lot of soul-searching, even before I got your letter. You are right in everything you said. I could feel the love emanating from the pages as I read your words. As I try to sort out what feelings, if any, I have for my father, I imagine you are here with me. I knew, before I read your compassionate words, what tone you would take. What had the most significance for me was when you asked if I could see in him the young man with whom my mother fell in love. I have decided to cover his expenses, but I still don’t know about forgiveness. Darling, that may take a while. I have not yet worked through my past with him, have preferred to ignore it. I will reflect on our relationship, and the emotions it triggers, and try not to run from them. I have been doing that for a good part of my life, not wanting to face my feelings. Now it is time.
“How do I love thee, let me count the ways. I love thee to the depth and breadth and height my soul can reach.” My soul has reached new dimensions in my love for you.
Michael, “I love thee to the level of every day’s most quiet need, by sun and candlelight.” I had run across those words last week, surprised that neither of us had yet quoted from that love sonnet by Elizabeth Barrett Browning. My favorite lines are these and the ones you sent.
The girls got up early for a Saturday. We were talking and carrying on, silly stuff, having fun, when Callie said, “Look at us, three girls who all look alike, sitting around not doing a thing.” Earlier, Kenna had noticed your tee shirt and asked me about it. She kept pressing me for details so I finally told her, said she might think it was kind of lame. She laughed and said, “That’s not lame, that’s just dumb.” She had to tell Callie as soon as she came upstairs and then they both had a good laugh over us two old lovers, or maybe they think too old to be lovers.
Thank you for telling me that your father and I would have been close and that the three of us have shared several past lifetimes. I wish I had known him. I wante
d Amelia to tell me more about our secondary lives, but she said, “I question the wisdom of that. Is it not enough to know that you would have been happy together?”
I asked her, if we would have been so happy, then why were our destinies altered? She said, “Happiness and contentment do not always promote learning. Discord and unrest keep that pursuit alive.” I don’t understand it, or maybe I just don’t want to accept it. I would gladly sacrifice some lessons to have had our life together, but I wonder if Alexander would say the same.
I fully endorse, and am looking forward to, every item on your list, but I can’t believe my handyman skills don’t rank in the top ten reasons why you want me there. Besides household tasks, I will be more than happy to help the girls with their car. We were out working on Vince’s one day this week. It felt like old times—a six pack of beer, two guys, and a car. I did limit myself to one beer.
I am just back from a twilight walk along the river. I spent a few agonizing moments longing for you, then decided to stay in the moment and be present to the beauty of the night. The full moon rose against a backdrop of indigo blue—above a narrow band of gold that might have been mined from the depths of the earth. It epitomized the words and feelings of an old song, “Where the Blue of the Night Meets the Gold of the Day … someone waits for you.” When I play it, certain chords bring tears to my eyes, so poignantly do they evoke the lyrics, set a mood that matches ours. I sense you waiting for me now, the sweet pleasure I take from your presence tinged with the bitter reality that you are not here.
Do you remember I once wrote of going to the mountains, disappointed that I couldn’t hike as I had wanted to? I started my moonlight walks the evening I returned, that September. I walked out on the island at dusk, still missing the challenge of climbing. I kept going, listening to the hooting of the owls and a chorus of chirping crickets, walking through the perfect mixture of warm and cool air currents. So determined was I to fulfill the longing of my soul to experience the elements, that I ignored the obvious. My walk back was in full darkness with just occasional patches of moonlight peeking through the clouds. I had to stop often and stare up at what little light there was and then could see the path for a short way ahead. I’ve kept up the walks since then. If I feel a frisson of fear, it is easily defeated when I let myself be present to the magic of the night.
I have heard from a second software company, in California, that wants to fly me out to discuss things, and there’s word about my last blood test. It’s about the best I have had, an increase in white blood cells but with few antibodies—my immune system is trying to make a comeback. It is great news, on both fronts.
Yes, my love, I can hear your concern as if you were here with me. I have considered the down side of the trip, but I can think of no other way to present my project to them. J.T. said, “You’re nuts to even consider it,” but he didn’t absolutely forbid me to go.
I have been on the phone all morning. The most important call was from J.T., with the news that my other test results were also excellent. They were so good that he dropped his professional role and let a hint of excitement into his voice. The biopsies and spinal fluid were negative for any cancer cells; there are still some in the bone marrow, but significantly fewer. I am almost there!
I love you, sweetness. Of all the events in my life, including my illness, nothing has humbled me as much as your love—the truest, purest love I have ever known.
Welcome to spring, my love. If the first day of summer does not find us together, we will wait—sometimes patiently, sometimes not. Earlier, I was reading a novel and had to stop, overcome by tears when an everyday scene described a woman straightening her husband’s rumpled collar. I long for those simple gestures as much as the more romantic ones. Are you coming to bed with me? I have a long day tomorrow.
No time to write and I am not in the mood for it now, so I will summarize my thoughts of you today: your tests tomorrow, how I will be close; your clothes, as I glanced at a men’s catalog, picked out what you might like; your body, both in and out of the clothes; your girls, could I send them to you for a week; tulips, are there any outside of your building; and your trip, can you fly first class so you have less exposure?
Yesterday, I wrote “your girls” because I didn’t feel much like claiming them. I walked in the door to the sounds of a shrieking, physical fight that had started over each wanting to go along when the other has plans with a mutual friend. As close as they are, their fights have an equal, but opposite, intensity. I don’t think I’ve mentioned that they both have earned black belts, but they fight without regard to any rules. Today, all is well, the usual pattern.
It is pure joy to me to picture you and Vince out working on his car, doing such an ordinary father and son activity, working and laughing together. You are physically stronger, engaged with life, feeling like your old self. I want to get in my car and go to you, share some stolen moments. I could never leave you.
Darling, can you sense my excitement? Did you feel me reaching out to you with the news? I wish with all my heart that you were here to share my joy.
So now they are my girls? You can’t imagine how much I would welcome their visit. I wish I could be there to help you at such times, but I’ve gathered from you that my mere presence will change the dynamics between them.
My trip is all arranged for me, flying first class. I am feeling much better, so I don’t want you to worry. I will have two or three meetings, and I will have to find time to go see my father. I am not looking forward to it, but I hear an inner voice telling me that I need to come to terms with my past. I have an early flight, so I will say goodnight now and write after I arrive.
Michael, can you tell how thrilled I am with your latest test results? I have been bubbling over with excitement all day, having to suppress it when with clients. Our future could be just a few weeks away.
I will be thinking of you and will be close these next few days. I wish you well with your meetings and with your visit to your father. I wish even more that I could be there to look after you. Vaya con Dios.
Sweetness, it has been a long, exhausting day. My presentation went well—they made no attempt to hide their interest. One of their board members asked what I thought my program was worth. I said that it was more a question of what value it would bring to their company.
When I returned to my room, there was a message for me to call my attorney—the other company has made an offer and a rep will be in town next week to discuss the details. I’m going to meet with a consulting firm before then to have them evaluate my program and help me assess its worth.
I felt you near when we went to dinner. Perhaps it was because of Felicia, the dark-haired beauty who works for the company, though I think she had dual roles tonight. Was your spirit here and jealous on your behalf? Felicia was pleasant enough, but she kept touching my arm or placing a lingering hand on my thigh to emphasize her words. Her intent was obvious.
You must be curious how it went with my father. I was shocked— he is but a shell of the man I once knew; he can no longer hurt me. As I sat and watched him, and listened to his gibberish, I thought, what if he is trying to apologize or explain things to me and I don’t have a clue? Tears came to my eyes, angry tears of frustration and then sad tears for him, for my mother and Danny, and for myself. It was emotionally draining, but I am glad I made the visit.
About your girls—now you can have them for a month. I had denied them permission to go to a Nine Inch Nails concert, four hours away, mid-week, friends driving, and they went anyway. Their one redeeming act was to call me, halfway there, and let me know where they were. They had a good time, but they will be limited to work release for a while.
I walked along the river today, thinking we will soon walk there together. I saw two bald eagles near where I saw one last winter swoop down and grab a fish from a small hole in the ice, then fly away with it in his talons, all in a few seconds. I kept a lookout for a fallen feather to save for Vince, our T
alon Qua, our Brave Eagle.
A few tense moments as we waited for a thunderstorm to pass before landing, but I am back home now, closer to you again. I have to tell you more about Felicia, how I wasn’t comfortable fending off her advances. It would have been easy to take her to bed and pretend that she was you, but I couldn’t do that to you, and I couldn’t sell myself out so easily. I finally had to take both of her hands in mine to keep her from touching me. I told her she’s a lovely woman, but I am deeply involved with someone. She said you were the lucky one, but I begged to differ.
Amelia was here earlier today. She is concerned that I am pushing myself too hard and said I must rest and return to my regular meditation. It won’t be this busy for long, and then I will take as much time as I can to rest. J.T. called, wanting to know all about my trip. He, too, said I should take a few days off.
Michael, I can feel you close. As I took a shower this morning, I thought of your test results and imagined hearing soon that there are no new cancer cells. I almost collapsed as I stood there under the streaming water, sobbing, gasping for breath, overwhelmed with emotion as excitement mixed with relief. I am not counting on those results this time, but it is possible. We could be together just days from now.
My dearest love, I was reading from my little book—a beautiful passage of a love sustained while the lovers were parted—when I felt a breath upon my cheek. The calm serenity of your presence descended upon me like a soft, warm blanket, enveloping me, quieting my mind. I couldn’t tell where you left off and I began.
23. Running on Faith
April
