time to put on coffee.
i am home. i am waking to a new day. october is nearly done, and what an october it was. what a year it was. looking at this little guy, my new namesake, it dawns on me that this will be one to remember in so many ways, The Good, The Bad, The Ugly. my grandson was born, my sponsor died, and I have cancer. strange days, indeed, Mr. Lennon.
yesterday i was wrecked. i thought i was ready. but you can't be. not when the love saved your life. not when it was the life preserver you held on to through years of wanting to just let go and slip beneath the waves. can i really recall how much of me Johnnie was there to help build? not the writing, not the poetry. any confidence i have though, the people skills, the ability to 'see' (his refinement), the desire to see something through to the end, the inability to just...quit. those things and so many more.
i always remember when i started dancing again. i had stopped because of a childhood humiliation at the hands of cousins and an unsupportive (in THAT moment) aunt, ironically right down the street from where i now reside. i had stopped for years. fat guys shouldn't dance; they will just suffer humiliation. but i would watch at the recovery dances (which no longer take place, by the way), i would watch the people moving to the music, and i'd hate them, and i'd hate myself more. i would do all the peripheral shit; sell tickets, watch the money, keep the coffee brewed, set up, clean up. but i was afraid to dance. after one dance, Johnnie took my back to my parent's house, and i was talking to him, telling him how i was feeling like a coward, trying to find some sliver of indifference, of insouciance to mask the shame and misery i felt. sitting in my driveway, Johnnie told me, in deliberate terms, i was going to the next dance, and i was going to dance, and he turned in his seat and looked at me and said, ''...because, you don't want to keep feeling like a coward." the timing of my words being given back to me, the way he cut through my bullshit back to the reality of the issue, reduced me to tears. next dance, though, he had two blondes come over to me, coax me to my feet and get me to dancing. i never stopped. never wanted to. i've held dances myself, paid out of my pocket, just to have the joy of seeing people enjoying themselves as i learned to enjoy myself.
he wasn't God. i don't blaspheme; i'm not a hypocrite. i don't denigrate either. he was, in my life, the tool that my Father seemed to use most and best to keep me growing and going, and i miss him now that he is not in this world any longer.
but my grandson is sitting up. and he's about to start on solid food. he's smart, he's aware and he has a huge spirit. it's wonderful when i see him, though he forgets me every time due to the time that grows between visits. but i will accept that; there's nothing wrong with being new over and over, as long as it's on the basis of a good meeting once again.
today i'm going to have he and his parents by for dinner. i'm going to brunch with Marc, so i am going to skip the meeting, otherwise getting everything done is not going to be possible. i should have gone to the memorial lunch yesterday, but the tearing away of my facade exhausted me. and i will sincerely apologize to Nancy, for the last time i'm hoping.
i thank you, Jehovah, i have and i do and i will, for such an abundant blessing, beyond my ability to comprehend, but not beyond my senses to partake of. thank you for this day.
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