Chapter 45

     Reading the letter had moved him in a way that went far beyond intellectual and logical processing. He felt something on a much deeper emotional level in that moment, and for the first time since the accident he had a sense of clarity. No matter what else happened in this life, he knew on a deeply personal level that he was loved. That at least two other people had felt this kind of complete and unconditional thing for him, and it made him feel powerful. He thought in that moment of an old quote from Lao Tzu. ‘Being loved deeply by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage.’ It completely summed up the moment for him.

     He held the last letter in his hand, and thought for a moment about this place, the farm, Chicago, and came to two conclusions. One, none of these places were home anymore. Not now, and not for him. The second thing he realized was that he wanted to live. No more killing himself slowly and no more running away from life and no more neglecting his life and work as a therapist. He wanted to live. Owed it to his wife and daughter to keep living.

He unfolded his letter.

‘Dear John

No letter ever ended well that starts “Dear John.” It means a breakup is coming fast, and I hope that’s not the case here. If you’ve broken up with any of the important people in your life, then you are a fool, and I would like you to burn this letter now. There’s nothing else worth reading. You found happiness. I’m 100 percent certain, and I hope to God you haven’t run from it. 

You are writing this letter after a LONG period wandering around in the dark, so in a way, this is a breakup letter. A breakup from running away from love, and not letting people love you back. You finally figured it out this time, and it took you decades to get here. I hope you didn’t go from cherishing these two women to taking them for granted, but I’m sure that sometimes you did. It’s what people do. Even the best people. But I know that YOU know, like deep down visceral know, that these women are your ticket to a happy life. You’re knew at this, and you’ve made some mistakes, don’t be so fucking hard on yourself. I know you loved them. I’ve written to you before like this, and it’s all still us. Some of the pieces never change. You are an incredibly lucky man having found what you found.

      There are parts of you I DON”T know, and these things kind of fascinate me actually. You’re a dad and a husband now, and you know virtually nothing about either one of these things. How did you do?? I’m genuinely interested. I know you loved them, and if you have that then the rest of it kind of writes itself.

      And what about you? How did you sustain yourself creatively, spiritually, and professionally apart from your roles as a husband and father. Did you shake that silly notion that a person has to be tortured themselves to be of any help to others? Did you continue to create things? Add some little piece to other’s understanding? I hope you did. It’s part of what makes you who you are. Show your daughter how to do this. It’s all pretty new to her.

      Remember that this life is a grand adventure wrapped up in a long sleep. Everything comes to an end. You, your wife, your daughter, and everyone you know. I hope you can look in the mirror and at least know that you were loved, and that you loved well. If you know these things then you’ve been a success.’

     He had read his own mind….

     He walked back to the car with the letters in his hand, feeling as he did that a chapter of his life had come to an end. He could no longer be with all of these people he had loved physically, but they would be indelibly stamped inside his heart forever, and he knew that this would sustain him. Had to sustain him. He started the car and took a long look into the rear view mirror. There was more for him in this world, but it wasn’t here anymore. Not on the farm, and not in Chicago, and not anywhere else that was familiar. Not now. It wasn’t home.  He would travel somewhere far, far away and see what else the world had to offer. Thailand. Australia. New Zealand maybe. Somewhere where he could get lost in the world and start again. 

He popped in a Tom Waits Cd as he continued to see the farm get smaller in his mirror.

‘Oh, how we danced and you

Whispered to me

You’ll never be going back home

You’ll never be going back home'

It was just the right song…

    

     

     

    

     

Chapter 44

He held the letter from his wife in his hands, and thought about the enormity of the moment. It was the last time his wife would ever say something completely new to him, and he wanted to savor it. He could of course read it again, but for now he didn’t know, and it broke his heart to think about the idea. He felt an enormous pang of regret for every silly fight, every stupid criticism, and for not appreciating her every second of every day. What he held in his hands was proof again that we are never promised another second with people.

‘Dear Stephanie,

I had no idea how hard this exercise would be. Write to your “future” self. I hope you haven’t focused that much on your future all these years actually. I hope you’ve realized what an incredible gift it was to have found your husband and daughter after so many years stumbling in the dark, and never go too far outside the present moment. It’s all we have. Things change, people come in and out of our lives, and one day we wake up in a completely different place. I’m confident you didn’t let that happen though. I’m sure you hugged your daughter tight every day of her life, through the awkward teen years, and the first boyfriends, and all the inevitable pains that come from growing up. 

     And your beloved husband. I hope you kissed him every day and looked in the mirror and laughed about how you two were growing old together. I hope you never stopped dancing together, and making love, and writing love letters, and showing each other in every way how lucky you were to have found each other. 

      I hope you remained true to yourself as well. That you grew as an artist and explored your passions, and continued your life as a teacher and a creator. Finding love made you so much better at these things. It gave you a sense of safety and security and peace, and I hope these things were reflected in your work. 

      If you have forgotten ANY of these things, stop what you’re doing and go hug your daughter and kiss your husband right this second. Everything else can wait. You found the loves of your lifetime when they came into your life, and if you’re taking them for granted then you forgot. Don’t forget. Love every moment of your ride together through this life.   

It doesn’t last forever

Chapter 43

     Two drinks. He had two drinks at the bar. Two drinks like a normal person coming home from work. A relaxing nightcap. It was what normal people did, but he still felt a long way from normal. Still, he couldn’t shut the voice in his head up, and he felt that possibly his resilience was beginning to strengthen. He knew the time had come.

     He put on some clothes he didn’t mind getting dirty and headed back to the barn, stopping as he did and taking it in again. He had spent time fixing it up as the owner, but basically it looked the same. This barn had been in a recurring dream of his for nearly a decade, and figuring out that dream had set him on a course to find his wife and daughter. It was a place that had a great deal of significance to him.

      He went to the back and lined his feet up, one behind the other, back lined up perfectly with the rear door. He knew the way from here. Fifty steps, one foot at a time. As he got to his destination he looked around and saw the farmland on the horizon. It was his home for a while. His paradise really, but instinctively he felt that something was going to change. Whatever he was about to look at would change his life forever. He was sure of that.

     He dug his shovel into the dirt and felt the sweat gather on his brow. He hadn’t been taking very good care of himself, and the labor of the exercise was difficult for him.  He figured it would take ten full heaves to find his treasure, but he was wrong. It took five before he reached the familiar old wooden box they had all picked out together. In it contained three letters. One written by each of them to their future selves.

     He decided he would read his daughter’s letter first. She had always been able to make him laugh, and he guessed it might be the lightest of the three to read, given the circumstances. He unwrapped the crumbled piece of paper and began to read.

‘Dear Kim.

Why exactly are you burying a piece of paper in the dirt? Never mind, I know the answer already. It was your dad’s idea. He’s always doing things like that. Asking you to ponder the “mystery” of life. You pretended it was corny and that you didn’t like it, but secretly you loved it. He saved your life. Saved it in every way. He always knew about following his heart. Now you’re happy. I hope you stay happy. I hope you remain grateful for every single moment with your mom and dad and the life they gave you when they adopted you. I hope your teen years went alright. Those can be hard. But mostly I hope you’re still grateful. Your life was not supposed to turn out like this, but some people took a chance on you and things were never the same. I hope YOU have taken a chance on others in your life. That you paid it forward, gave back to others instead of keeping it all for yourself. That’s all I guess. I’ll look forward to meeting you in the future. ‘

    

He looked down and saw his own tears had begun to smudge the writing. His hands were shaking, and he took another long look at the horizon, just as he had done when he was a child. He realized the letter was the culmination of everything he wanted in his life. To make a difference. To do something that mattered. For years he thought he would accomplish this by being famous, or writing books, or being a psychologist, but in that moment he knew.   

 

He had found it by being a father.

Chapter 42

     When he did wake up, he took stock of where he was, and wondered where the hell he had just been. Had he really traveled across the country in a drunken haze like that? It seemed surreal to him. That he was here, lying in the bed he shared with his wife without her. It was a future he never could have dreamed of.

     He looked down the stairs, and once again he felt the sense of life folding in on itself. He had played on these same stairs as a child with his grandmother, and carried on the tradition with his own daughter when the farm was theirs. Every step was another memory. Old and new, both tempered by the current cloud of angst that hung over the house with each step he took. Memory could be cruel when a person’s road ahead was still so foggy.

     He made his way down to his daughter’s room, and looked inside. He saw her toys, and art supplies and posters and felt a swell of fatherly pride at the young woman she had become. Given what she had been through the odds were long that she would ever find a sense of innocence again, but she had reclaimed her joy and become a child again in front of his eyes. It was the privilege of a lifetime to see her resilience, and he wondered what she might have become. He knew she was happy at the end, and visualized a world full of hope and possibilities. Maybe it was impossible to improve on that?

     He stepped outside and took a deep breath of the country air. It smelled like manure, and he realized it always had. He had idealized that smell in his mind for most of his life, but when he was here, he remembered. He realized he smelled it more acutely now because he was alone. Most of his life at this far he had been surrounded by people he loved. Now it was just him and the smell.

     He looked up and saw a car drive by slowly on the small country road, and he realized that people would begin to notice he had returned. He knew they would have no idea what he was doing here by himself or what he had just been through. Can we ever really triangulate another person’s emotional place in the universe? Not really. It was a reminder to tread lightly with people.

      He thought for a moment about platitudes and sympathy and going through the motions with his neighbors, and decided he simply wasn’t up for it in that moment.

     He felt himself reaching for his keys and starting for the car. Consciously understood he was pointing it towards a bar. Understood that this choice had consequences and would carry the weight of further guilt, and physical and emotional malaise. He did it anyway.

Maybe time was a flat line.