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Posts Tagged ‘sadness’

Protected: The Luxury of Patience

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You ask me what my favorite memory is.

And I laugh and say that there aren’t many to choose from. It was meant to be a light joke, but I’m somber all of a sudden at the truth of the statement. There aren’t many and I doubt there will be many more.

It’s doubt that’s the enemy, isn’t it?

I tell myself to have faith. To believe. To hope.

But no, Buddha was right when he said:

There is nothing more dreadful than the habit of doubt. Doubt separates people. It is a poison that disintegrates friendships and breaks up pleasant relations. It is a thorn that irritates and hurts; it is a sword that kills.

But I do. I doubt. And it kills me.

You hear it in my voice and soon I hear it in yours. If I can’t have faith, how do I expect you to believe in me? If I refuse to believe in you, how can I expect you to stay?

“I’ll miss you, too.”

Is that your way of acknowledging that I’m pulling away? Is that you saying goodbye?

I close my eyes and sigh.

It’s the way you always curve your arm around my waist every time you walk by me. Whether I’m brushing my teeth or getting a glass of water, you pass by and your arm snakes around my waist slightly, then your hand runs across the small of my back before you continue on with wherever you’re going. It’s the way you give me that teasing look on your face when I get scared. You laugh and whisper encouragement but you always say, “Don’t look at me with those scared eyes.” You somehow know just how to bring the fearless out of me.

It’s the way you make me feel flawless.

It’s the way you lace your fingers with mine as we sit and talk with your friends, or when we’re sitting at the dinner table drinking our wine; it’s the way you squeeze my hand so hard I can feel your bones fuse with mine just before I say goodbye.

You ask me what my favorite memory is, and I want to say, “You are.”

But I can’t.

And so, someday, I know I’ll sit in front of the sunset feeling the sand slip right through my fingers and I’ll miss you, too.

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When I looked at you, my life made sense. Even the bad things made sense. They were necessary to make you possible.
-Jonathan Safran Foer

I wonder if there really are people out there that come into your life and throw everything into complete disarray…and yet you accept the disarray because, well…because it made sense.  Maybe part of it is because you allowed everything to happen the way it did. You turned a blind eye, told yourself you’d deal with the consequences later on, or worse–you believed that it was okay that things were bad because it was just how they were. It was the only way to make that person a possibility in your life.

How does someone like that make sense?

Maybe if only to show us that it doesn’t.

A person’s life can’t all be made up of good things. It’s part of the theory of relativity. Each person is tested by their own fire. Each person has their own demons. Each one has that one person that only exists to remind them of how things can be so good…and how things can be so bad. Each one has their polarizing person. Or two. Or three. Who knows? Maybe as many as it takes to learn your lesson.

Maybe it stays painful for as long as it takes to learn what’s good for you.

You’ll keep seeing this person, keep feeling this person because…well, it just makes sense and still does.

I don’t get it, and I can’t possibly explain how I feel. Except that…the quote above reminded me of you. And maybe who you’re supposed to be in my life.

It makes sense, doesn’t it?

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Sadly, another one of my father’s brothers has been diagnosed with cancer.

It’s happening again.

Sigh.

He was diagnosed with nasopharyngeal carcinoma. It is the same one my father was diagnosed with more than sixteen years ago.  But there is hope for my uncle. His was diagnosed at Stage 1 and the technology has vastly improved in the last 16 years.  My father, being the stubborn butt that he was, ignored all the pain, the headaches, the frequent nosebleeds.  His cancer was not diagnosed until Stage 4. At that point, he was given a year to live.

My father fought his cancer for six years. We traveled all over the world searching for technology, science, medicines, religion, and any semblance of hope. The cancer took its toll on my father. The chemotherapy weakened him such that he weighed little more than 98 pounds at some points, the radiation burned through his vocal chords that for years he could not speak, he was unable to eat solid foods, and he was constantly in pain.

It’s really hard watching someone you love go through something like that.

I wish my uncle the best. I wish his family strength and hope. I also wish the rest of our family the same. Our family has lost so much in such a few years.

Here’s to hoping.

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I don’t really know the power of “Sorry.”

I was watching the Season Finale of Celebrity Fit Club (yeah, don’t judge), and Kevin Federline apologizes to Shar Jackson. He finally says sorry. And she proclaims that it meant “the world” to her.

I’m sorry…but No.

I’ve been at both ends of that word.

At one end, it is everything. At the other end, it is absolutely nothing.

When you’re the one who’s sorry, it can mean everything to you. It means that you’ve accepted that you’ve done something wrong. It means that you’re ready to move on, to grow up. It means that you’ve lowered your pride and admitted fault. It means that you’ve reached a certain degree of self-realization, self-acceptance such that you can look at the bigger picture of your life and say I did something that wasn’t good–that hurt someone else.

And you are SORRY. You will change. You will grow up, learn and be a better person.

But when you’re at the other end of sorry…well, it doesn’t really change the fact that you were hurt. It doesn’t turn back time and it sure as hell doesn’t erase all the pain and scars that were left behind.  Sorry just means you get left behind. It means the other guy knows he has done something wrong…and can move on from that. It doesn’t mean that you get to be all better, too.

It’s not fair, almost. When the other person says sorry for hurting you…does it mean you can’t be angry with them anymore? Does it mean you have to forgive? Does it mean you aren’t supposed to feel the pain anymore?

It just doesn’t work that way.

I think the flipside to being told the s-word is forgiveness. I’m sure it’s got the same effect as being the one who says the S-word.  And maybe, right now…I’m just not ready to forgive.

So when you’re sorry, I’m glad you figured it out and feel that way and can move on. But I’m not ready to not be angry because I still hurt. I’m not ready to forgive because I still can’t wrap my head and heart around it.  I do hate feeling this way and I am working towards it.

But for now, unlike Shar, your ‘sorry’ doesn’t mean the world to me.

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Dear Jason,

When I found out about your death, I cried.  I know…it seems kind of weird, right? The last time we saw each other was more than six years ago. But then again, you were one of those people who kind of helped me to become the person I am now. You’re not the kind of person someone just forgets.

You were one of those kids, y’know, with that special light inside. You kind of struggled in life. I saw that, even as kids. When we had those peer counseling sessions, you were tough on the outside, but definitely one of the sweetest guys I’ve ever met. I remember a few times when you used to help me get over what was bugging me. You always gave and you never really expected much in return.

You once told me, “Just be brave,” like it was the easiest thing in the world. I was crying after a Peer Counseling session about how hard it was to transition from the Philippines to the U.S., how everyone was so mean.  You were balancing on your skateboard, absent-mindedly doing tricks, while I sat on the curb. You kind of always had your way of seeing things that was kind of simple, but saw right to the heart of the matter. And you never felt sorry for me or made me feel like I should be someone I wasn’t. I will always appreciate that.

In fact, I kind of always had a crush on you because of that. And the fact that you were half-Filipino.

I don’t know what had happened in your life in the last few years, but I do know you were still fighting the good fight. Looking for love. Trying to shine through the hardships.

It makes me so sad to find out that your light has gone out. The world is short one amazing, talented and kind person.

Rest in Peace, Jase.

Jason Joiner, 27, was gunned down at 12:35 a.m. Sunday March 28, 2010. He was shot while in his car at an interesection in Stockton, CA. The Police has declared that he was not targeted specifically. Several other cars on the street were also hit by gunfire.

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Tonight, I cried for you when I thought I was done.

I don’t know what it was. Maybe it was the title of the movie, “Down with Love” being on tv. I just felt like, YEAH, DOWN WITH LOVE! And I felt all that bitterness welling in me, followed by a wave of overwhelming sadness that just crashed into me. Suddenly, I collapsed onto the bed and cried. I cried for all the loneliness, the hopelessness, and brokenness I have been feeling for so long. I cried for all the times that I’ve tried so hard to get over this. And finally, I cried because I know…I still do.

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