What I've Learned

(and what I've done)

Many times, my longest silences in writing are the most important.
They can speak of many things - a restocking of creativity, a busy time in my life - but this was the most important of pauses.

My life has changed. Irrevocably.

Five days after my last entry, my heart slowed to the point it couldn't keep me conscious and collapsed in a movie theater. I spent the next five days in the hospital. We discussed pacemakers, lifelong medication, a life without heavy activity, before realizing that it was more minor.
I tried to write a post on it, and only could get halfway through without being unable to continue.
It took weeks to recover physically. It took months to recover inside. I wrestled with mortality and the impermanence of life, the fear of something as simple as little parts not working right. And something breaks. That something being me.
Then, just when I thought I had a handle on it, my Aunt Linda took a turn for the worse. She finally passed away just a few weeks ago.
I was at her viewing. I was a pallbearer in the funeral. I carried her to her grave.

Life is very different.
My life, as it is, is much the same. I go to work in the city, I come home and hang out with my roomates and friends. I write whenever I can. I play sports and like ordering Chinese while watching hockey.
But it's all different.
Everything is different to me; more important, more real, more meaningful. More. I feel like the man dragged outside the convenience store in Fight Club with a gun put to his head just to make his life better. Only this was lighter - a reminder that this life is finite, and singular, and will not be offered again.
I think of playing sports with friends and the stories from them; the feel of wind in my hair; the sparks that led to some of my most romantic stolen moments; the pleasure of writing and creation; the hugs of my family; the calming enjoyment of video games and fantasy sports with the boys; the anticipation of a Penguins game; the comfort of a longtime friend's voice.

I enjoy them all.
I didn't want to write this post without time elapsing. Too often this kind of thing is a short-term change.
But five months later - and after my Aunt Linda passed away - I feel it just as much. No. Stronger.
I had to leave Pittsburgh for a while to realize how much I liked it. I had to leave the security of my youthful naivety about mortality for a while to realize how much I liked life.

Oh.... and chocolate tastes even better than before.


So let mercy come
and wash away
what I've done

For what I've done...

I start again
and whatever pain may come
Today this ends
I'm forgiving what I've done

I'll face myself
cross out what I've become
Erase myself
and let go of what I've done