Fear Take Flight So Love Can Land

Well, so much for my resolution to write more, but I assure you , my excuse is as valid as the next.  In the last few months, the great honor of becoming a real live, full-time, working artist has been bestowed upon me. … paycheck and all.  I am so grateful for the opportunity to be able to tap into this divine creative channel every day.  It affords me a spacious vessel for growth and a reliable vehicle for change. Not to mention, staying busy keeps a girl out of trouble.  BUT, I cried myself to sleep last night, and lately I’ve been grappling with some things I am finding difficult to accept.  When I awoke this morning… I knew I had offer it all up to the universe in its rawest form and sacrifice it on the alter of my electronic journal.   So here goes....

It all began when I was born.  Ha!  I’m kidding, but no… seriously.  That’s pretty much where it all began,  however, I am a constantly evolving creature and have learned many things about myself and the ones I love in this life…  last night,  my tears came to wash away the intense fear of losing one of those people. 

My dad has been sick for some years now.  He has a heart condition called cardiomyopathy.  When he was first diagnosed more than a decade ago, the doctors gave him less than a year to live.  When my mom received the news, I was in the throes of my addiction and unable to comprehend exactly what it all meant.  But the part of the story where he was not supposed to survive the year was withheld from me until not long ago.  When I asked my mom why they didn’t tell me the whole truth… she said it was because I was already slated to move to Florida and they feared I wouldn’t go if I knew.  AND they knew I needed to go.  It was clear I was drowning, and they wanted me to start swimming.  These are good parents… good humans.  But to find out years later what might have been was a jagged little pill and something I had to forgive myself for… over and over.  I don't blame them for not telling me.  I completely understand.  No regrets, but naturally, i  wish I'd been in a place where I could have been more supportive, trustworthy, etc.   Nonetheless,  Dad's still here, and that alone will tell you a little something about how our physical forms pale in comparison to the truly amazing spirit living within us. 

I'll never know if it was my self-centered denial or the fact that Dad rarely complains and always chooses to discuss the positives over the negatives… but it seems his quality of life has not been diminished much by his disease…. until recently.    That's not to say it hasn't been hard on him, but he always seems to find a way to make lemonade.  Until recently, it seemed there were actually aspects of his limitations he enjoyed to a certain extent.  For instance, my dad is one of the hardest working men I know.  Up with the sun and stay ‘til it’s done.  On average, he worked 12-16hr days for most of his life, and he preferred it this way.  But when he got sick, he was forced to slow down.  Though I know this was an adjustment for him, he seemed to settle into it, and enjoy the little things he’d been moving too swiftly to notice in awhile .   Until recently, he seemed to be excited about the future…. hopeful.  Until recently, he never mentioned his health or lack thereof.   But in the last year or so, he’s had some bumps in the road.  Some days I call him and he just sounds exhausted… mentally.  He says things like, "If I I'm still around when..."  or "if I don't kick the bucket first..."  This is far more painful to hear than any physical prognosis.   I get the feeling he is sick and tired of being sick and tired.  And who in the world could blame him???  My brother says he’s given his heart to so many people, and not many have returned the favor.  I think he believes this has contributed to the weakening of dad’s heart, and though he has indeed given more that he's received, I know dad doesn’t do nice things for folks because he expects something in return.  He does them because it’s who he is at the core of his being.  It hurts my brother to see people take advantage of him, but I truly believe dad doesn’t see it that way.  I believe his humanity is the reason he is still with us.  And his grandkids.  Probably, mostly his grandkids. J

 

So… I’ve spent some time in denial about many of these things.  I really don’t want to believe that my oldest and dearest friend is sick, and I sure as hell don’t want to believe he’s tired.  Sometime I guess it just feels easier to believe him when he says he’s “doing just fine”.  Truth is… he’s not really “fine”.  Physically, he’s been sick a long time… and even as I write this, I am breathless… as if I just heard the news for the first time.  Mentally and emotionally, he’s beginning to bend, but we were made to bend, right?  It’s just so difficult to watch someone you love so much struggle.   I just want him to be happy.  I want him to have the care he needs.  I want him to be able to accept his limitations, and embrace life with as much enthusiasm as he can muster.  And most of all, I don’t want him to suffer… not for a second.  I can see the discouragement on his face and hear the frustration in his voice when he finds he can’t do the things he once could although he masks it well with a , "Well, I'm not as young as I once was.."  Hell, some days, walking to the mailbox and back is a gauntlet of challenges for him. 
Maybe… if I am absolute in my truth, it’s just downright tough to watch my parents grow older…to find out my dad really isn’t a superhero.  That he just may be mortal after all, and that I’d better get in touch with this reality because I was made to bend, as well.  Now more than ever, I must be diligent about my own issues because dad needs my best energy, and love cannot exist in the same space as fear.  I have given myself permission to feel my feelings.  I allow myself the freedom to express it... to cry about it.  But when I spend time with Dad, either on the phone or in person, I do my best to encourage him to follow his heart…. No matter how ill-equipped he thinks it is.   To take care of himself.  To heal himself... if not physically... in every other way.

     I am so thankful for the awareness that every precious moment is a gift.   Today I will stay in this moment.  This one right here.  Today I will send love and light to my Dad, and know that it is reaching him with whatever intensity he needs now.  I will pick up the phone and encourage him.  I will not beat myself up for living 1000 miles away.  I will continue  to follow my own heart because it is the only way for me to be 100% available to the ones I love. 

I can’t say that the gravity of this pain is any less forceful having written a few paragraphs about it…. But I did not come to the pages of this journal for a bandaid and a pat on the head.  I simply want to open a door and walk through it…experience the journey…trust the process.  I want to put new bandages on the wound… or let it breathe if need be.  I want to honor myself and my loved ones by living authentically.  And sometimes, in order to do that, I have to realize my fears, cradle them in my hands, and give them permission to travel elsewhere... on the wings of words.

Fear take flight so love can land.