During a recent meditation session, the elusive code, the combination of words, to try to explain how I feel came to me. It’s like my highhorse carrying my soapbox has been shoved up my ass. Splinters will be with me always. My muse changed my perception of life, realligned it. What has happened this year demolished one of the major support beams of my belief system. I adopted the philosophy that everything, including the bad things, happen for a reason. It may never be revealed but I was able to invest in having it to fall back on. Right now, it just feels disingenuine to put stock in. I have hope it will change which shows me that these events, like all the others, won’t break me. Not really. Being present to my posessing hope shows that at my core, I am a true believer.
It takes a true believer to even have conjured and attempted any of this in the first place. To believe that my words alone could influence people to care about a cause there is far too little attention payed to. It takes courage. Until you put your creative work out there to be vivisected by stranger that you understand how intimidating it really is. I honestly didn’t know what to expect of putting a campaign on the internet. But I had hope that people would read it and be moved if not to donate than to care and be aware. I checked everyday to see the slow trickel begin by friends and participants contributions. Then shit got real. The rest of the money all came in one morning and I felt absolutely reborn. After a year of prep research and sleepless nights over the graphic nature of reading profile and medical records, it was for something. The faith I had was seemingly rewarded. Do good things and good things happen.
We all know that’s usually not the case, especially in this situation. I was sick therefor medicated and nobody, especially my partner, wanted to rush me around. In the future she will have the permission and direct instruction to ride me like Seabiscut if I don’t move fast enough. Then first her dad died, destroying her mom who had been with him since high school. I didn’t want to rush her, so I hung back. Then soon after dealing with that mess and moving her aide requiring mother to the west coast, she passed away as well.
Then shit getting real took on a whole, new definition. I never experienced such an unnatural loss before including the self-induced deaths of my parents. Yes, any manor of suicide is unnatural but in the order of things, in whatever way, parents are supposed to die first. With everything my subject had survived, to have peace for such a short period of time is one of the most unjust events I’ve ever even known about. There’s no way to reason it out. Having faith does not mean having blind faith, although some would argue that by definition, faith must be blind. Maybe. Still faith isn’t as huge as love. It incapacitates all of the senses and when the person we love the most is gone, it can hurt so much that you long for physical pain just to distract you from it. That I have total faith in that like clockwork as I can tell you. Pre-existing medical conditions and blinding, deafening, soul crushing loss go together like diet coke and mentos. I’m feeling it full tilt.
I can see where I made mistakes in the ramping up process. Some out of ignorance and some out of attitude, for both I’m sorry and won’t repeat them. I finally began to view my footage this morning. I watched snippit’s of different interviews, my little cousins one night I babysat in NYC, then I took a deep breath and clicked on the file with the young man’s footage. Immediately, my hand unconsciously covered my heart as if it could be shielded by anything. But I pressed play and heard him start to talk and I thought about how beautiful a child he actually was. I had forgotten how blue his eyes were and how bravely he owned his life. His sweet face as he walked the camera down the path of his journey. Now I’m crying remembering it. And thinking about it. All of the things I would say and do differently if I knew the time was running out.
Now, all I can do is slide from anger to hope and back and again. I hope I get the opportunity to finish this project. I hope people choose to help and get involved. I hope we all can heal and at least learn never to take our loved ones, most of all our children, for granted.