I guess this is the sort of day when some people reflect on what they have to be thankful about. So yes, that did cross my mind today. But it was with mixed feelings. If you are easily offended, you might want to stop reading right here, right now.
I am thankful that I am still alive. I guess. Haven't experienced the alternative yet, so nothing to compare to. I will say that the past three and a half years REALLY sucked, and I seriously doubt that any sort of existence after death could be worse than that.
When Connie died, so did a part of me.
I used to play in a band for many years, and I played in a lot of bars and nightclubs. I would see the same people shuffle in night after night. Just sit there drinking away by themselves. Apparently nothing better to do, and no one to go home too. I never understood how people could do that. Not only the drinking part, but the "not having anything better to do" part. Now I understand. They lost something they could never replace. They seek to deaden the pain with alcohol. The present and the future held nothing for them. They do not wish to be able to remember a better time that has fled. Maybe I should have sat down and talked with them. Listened to their stories. Maybe that little thing would have helped them get through a few hours. But I guess I was wrapped up in my own life then. Empathy was lacking. Maybe I did not want to have my life burdened with their burdens.
Connie was depressed a lot because of her family issues. And I hope it would not offend her for me to relate that she was actually suicidal. Scared the hell out of me. I could not understand how someone could feel that way. Inescapable depression. The feeling that life was not worth living. That even the unknown of what comes after death might be preferable to waking up tomorrow. But I have now been there and I do understand. I was so close to the edge that it was only a miracle that I did not jump off. I have to admit that it was a VERY close call. So yes, another lesson learned. With Connie, I just tried to make her life worth living as best I could. But I know I faltered sometimes. Was not the best I could be at times, and have regrets that I have to live with. Any argument takes two to continue. I know there were times I could have easily turned the direction away from getting worse, but hard headedness won over and I did not often enough take the best path possible. I know now that Connie likely never would have actually committed suicide based on how hard she fought to stay alive when she got that very grim diagnosis of cancer. I KNOW that she fought because she did not want to leave me alone in life. A lesson, yes, but both a harsh one, and a somewhat comforting one. I KNOW I was successful in making her want to stay alive.
And another lesson I learned that will likely offend some people. I would swear on a stack of bibles that God spoke to me fairly early on during Connie's fight with cancer. He said to me, as plain as day, "Trust ME, Rich." I heard that in a voice like none other I have ever heard. Maybe I did not take that advice as strongly to heart as I should. Because I was afraid to. Perhaps I just did not understand what that really meant. Perhaps I did not TRUST that I didn't just hallucinate and was really falling off my rocker. I was trying to fight for my wife's life. In any way I could. I learned more about cancer than any sane person would want to swallow. It was extremely important to me to try everything I could to save my wife's life. But some part of me really deep inside DID believe that God was on my side. That I COULD trust in him.
I had my heart attack one month after Connie was diagnosed. In the ambulance on the way to the ER I reflected on the number of times I had prayed to God to spare my wife's life. I mean getting down on my hands and knees crying while praying. I offered my own life in exchange. Preferably just enough that we could both live long enough to die together at a ripe old age, but I would have taken what I could get. So I thought God was taking me up on my offer. I remember saying to Him from the back of the ambulance, "You sure didn't wait very long to take me up on my offer, did you?" So I believed we had a deal. And even till the very last, I still had this core of faith that God was on my side. That he was testing me by making things seem as grim as possible up to the very last possible moment to pull off the miracle that would show me that my trust in him was to bear fruit. Until 5:30 am on 11/11/2023 when Connie's voice (an impossibility) woke me from a deep sleep and I found her gone. Something within me broke then. Faith and trust fled me.
So what was the lesson there? What should I be thankful for? That I now know that God will never help me? After all, if he would not help me with something that I consider as the most important singularity BY FAR in my entire life, why should I even think that he would help me with lesser things? Thankful to learn that my trust was misplaced? Is that the lesson I was supposed to learn? Or was the lesson to show me that I just hallucinated? (A friend of mine actually suggested that it wasn't God I heard at all, but someone else pretending to be the voice of God.) Or maybe that I was considerably off my rocker then and have yet to get back on? That if I cannot help myself or someone dear to me, then no greater power will? Pretty damn harsh lesson, I think. And difficult to feel thankful for it, because of the penalty Connie had to make in order for me to learn it.
So yeah, perhaps I am thankful of the turning point in my life that has taken place. I am not the same person I used to be. Happiness is an illusion. Trust is not to be taken seriously. Life is temporary and can be taken away without any recourse. I have learned these lessons. I am now the product of these experiences and it has made me take a harder look at reality. I am thankful that I have had the veil lifted, that I have grown up and see things more clearly now. And it has made me thankful that I KNOW I will not live forever. That sooner or later my number will come up too. Do I believe a better existence awaits me? No. I do not. That requires some trust in hearsay that I just do not have in me any longer. It truly pains me to think that Connie is just GONE. Forever. Ceased to exist. Nothing remains but her ashes and the memories of her. But soon enough, I will be there too, and it will be as though I never existed at all as well. Just as I have been going through Connie's things and getting rid of those I can only recently bear to part with, when I am gone, someone will go through my things and dispose of them. Leaving no trace. Nothing except a few memories in some people that will be fleeting, and then vanish eventually too. No footprints I made will last forever.
So, thank you God, for putting me where I am now. I finally know that I am on my own. That if YOU truly exist, you will not help me. No more prayers. No more wasted tears. I will be no more than a bug on the windshield to be wiped away without a thought.
Yeah, Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!
I am thankful that I am still alive. I guess. Haven't experienced the alternative yet, so nothing to compare to. I will say that the past three and a half years REALLY sucked, and I seriously doubt that any sort of existence after death could be worse than that.
When Connie died, so did a part of me.
I used to play in a band for many years, and I played in a lot of bars and nightclubs. I would see the same people shuffle in night after night. Just sit there drinking away by themselves. Apparently nothing better to do, and no one to go home too. I never understood how people could do that. Not only the drinking part, but the "not having anything better to do" part. Now I understand. They lost something they could never replace. They seek to deaden the pain with alcohol. The present and the future held nothing for them. They do not wish to be able to remember a better time that has fled. Maybe I should have sat down and talked with them. Listened to their stories. Maybe that little thing would have helped them get through a few hours. But I guess I was wrapped up in my own life then. Empathy was lacking. Maybe I did not want to have my life burdened with their burdens.
Connie was depressed a lot because of her family issues. And I hope it would not offend her for me to relate that she was actually suicidal. Scared the hell out of me. I could not understand how someone could feel that way. Inescapable depression. The feeling that life was not worth living. That even the unknown of what comes after death might be preferable to waking up tomorrow. But I have now been there and I do understand. I was so close to the edge that it was only a miracle that I did not jump off. I have to admit that it was a VERY close call. So yes, another lesson learned. With Connie, I just tried to make her life worth living as best I could. But I know I faltered sometimes. Was not the best I could be at times, and have regrets that I have to live with. Any argument takes two to continue. I know there were times I could have easily turned the direction away from getting worse, but hard headedness won over and I did not often enough take the best path possible. I know now that Connie likely never would have actually committed suicide based on how hard she fought to stay alive when she got that very grim diagnosis of cancer. I KNOW that she fought because she did not want to leave me alone in life. A lesson, yes, but both a harsh one, and a somewhat comforting one. I KNOW I was successful in making her want to stay alive.
And another lesson I learned that will likely offend some people. I would swear on a stack of bibles that God spoke to me fairly early on during Connie's fight with cancer. He said to me, as plain as day, "Trust ME, Rich." I heard that in a voice like none other I have ever heard. Maybe I did not take that advice as strongly to heart as I should. Because I was afraid to. Perhaps I just did not understand what that really meant. Perhaps I did not TRUST that I didn't just hallucinate and was really falling off my rocker. I was trying to fight for my wife's life. In any way I could. I learned more about cancer than any sane person would want to swallow. It was extremely important to me to try everything I could to save my wife's life. But some part of me really deep inside DID believe that God was on my side. That I COULD trust in him.
I had my heart attack one month after Connie was diagnosed. In the ambulance on the way to the ER I reflected on the number of times I had prayed to God to spare my wife's life. I mean getting down on my hands and knees crying while praying. I offered my own life in exchange. Preferably just enough that we could both live long enough to die together at a ripe old age, but I would have taken what I could get. So I thought God was taking me up on my offer. I remember saying to Him from the back of the ambulance, "You sure didn't wait very long to take me up on my offer, did you?" So I believed we had a deal. And even till the very last, I still had this core of faith that God was on my side. That he was testing me by making things seem as grim as possible up to the very last possible moment to pull off the miracle that would show me that my trust in him was to bear fruit. Until 5:30 am on 11/11/2023 when Connie's voice (an impossibility) woke me from a deep sleep and I found her gone. Something within me broke then. Faith and trust fled me.
So what was the lesson there? What should I be thankful for? That I now know that God will never help me? After all, if he would not help me with something that I consider as the most important singularity BY FAR in my entire life, why should I even think that he would help me with lesser things? Thankful to learn that my trust was misplaced? Is that the lesson I was supposed to learn? Or was the lesson to show me that I just hallucinated? (A friend of mine actually suggested that it wasn't God I heard at all, but someone else pretending to be the voice of God.) Or maybe that I was considerably off my rocker then and have yet to get back on? That if I cannot help myself or someone dear to me, then no greater power will? Pretty damn harsh lesson, I think. And difficult to feel thankful for it, because of the penalty Connie had to make in order for me to learn it.
So yeah, perhaps I am thankful of the turning point in my life that has taken place. I am not the same person I used to be. Happiness is an illusion. Trust is not to be taken seriously. Life is temporary and can be taken away without any recourse. I have learned these lessons. I am now the product of these experiences and it has made me take a harder look at reality. I am thankful that I have had the veil lifted, that I have grown up and see things more clearly now. And it has made me thankful that I KNOW I will not live forever. That sooner or later my number will come up too. Do I believe a better existence awaits me? No. I do not. That requires some trust in hearsay that I just do not have in me any longer. It truly pains me to think that Connie is just GONE. Forever. Ceased to exist. Nothing remains but her ashes and the memories of her. But soon enough, I will be there too, and it will be as though I never existed at all as well. Just as I have been going through Connie's things and getting rid of those I can only recently bear to part with, when I am gone, someone will go through my things and dispose of them. Leaving no trace. Nothing except a few memories in some people that will be fleeting, and then vanish eventually too. No footprints I made will last forever.
So, thank you God, for putting me where I am now. I finally know that I am on my own. That if YOU truly exist, you will not help me. No more prayers. No more wasted tears. I will be no more than a bug on the windshield to be wiped away without a thought.
Yeah, Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!
I am not the best comforting type but I hope you can find some peace somehow.
