Thursday, August 18, 2011

I'm Bad At Math But I'll Try To Sum Up

     I cried today. In fact, today I cried more than I have in the last few weeks. There were multiple reasons. But they all pretty much rolled up into one.
     It's only in the last few weeks, maybe months, that I've realized how well Kristin's artistic talents and my meager design skills really fit together. There's the possibility that we just didn't pay enough attention to what each other had to give in order to allow an artistic "team-up" to bloom, or it may simply never have been a part of the plan. Now as she just begins to discover skills which I believe she's been naive too for so many years, and I begin to fight back against my fear of creation via the brush or other traditional utensil, there dawns opportunity between us that neither of us had ever considered. Now, at the end, is where it can all begin.
     Kristin's natural handling of glass in the fusing process, of using multiple layers and colors to bring out images that only her subconscious could truly render as art, knocks my socks off harder than Charlie Brown's on the pitcher's mound the opening day of baseball season.

     I've always recognized that she and I made quite the team. That, together, we could face almost any force or opposition let loose against us and prevail. She's just done so well at keeping her talent, apart from music, as hidden as the loosely lidded cup of coffee a deacon sneaks into the "No Food or Drink" sanctuary of church each Sunday morning. (Not my church mind you. As far as I know there are no deacons sneaking anything in to our church. We don't have deacons. We have Elders.) She's more than my "soul-mate". She's my mate. And every time I see my "mate" walking away God puts these words on my heart, "Aye-aye skipper!"

     Next week was supposed to be, let's say, "was planned to be," our last big date. Shortly after I went off of chemo-therapy for the last time we scrimped together money and purchased tickets for the Josh Groban tickets to his August show in Portland, Oregon. But my new pain killer regimen, which is essentially Dilaudid on a constant pump into a port that's shoved into my heart, won't allow much for travel, heat, crowds... essentially anything I couldn't do very well before now feels like a life and death situation.
     So, instead of enjoying one last incredibly romantic date together, I've spent a good deal of time trying to call in favors that no one owes to me in order to get Kristin (and the lovely Stephanie, who happens to be filling my seat) some kind of pre-show, mid-show, post-show or even via-satellite "meet-and-greet" so I can surprise my beautiful wife with one last romantic surprise. It's incredibly doubtful that this will happen. But, just on the off chance, if anyone out there has any contacts I've not yet explored... explore them. I'm completely willing to owe you a favor. Granted... it will be for a very, incredibly, short time. But I will owe it to you none the less and do my best to make good on it.

     This coming week I'll begin writing letters. I'll be writing a few letters which I plan to have mailed out after my death. People will receive these epistles for any one of many reasons from, "I had one thing left to say," to, "I've told you this a thousand times before but needed to say it one last time." Essentially, there will be very little rhyme or reason that one shall get or not get one of these "post-epistles" from me. I hope that you can find it in your heart to forgive me if you do not receive such a message from beyond. The only reason I mention them at all is I'm sure one person will say, innocently, something to another about a letter they receive and thus will begin the thought process of, "Why didn't I get a letter? Didn't I mean enough to him?" In some cases the answer is a resounding, "Yes." No. No. No. In fact these will be sent/written more for a whim than a why. (Wow. That's some good writing. If only I'd found such talent earlier in life and used it rather than wasting time on improvisational comedy and poorly written romantic songs to girls who, for the most part, either did not appreciate or did not know about them... or me.

     Also, some of you who've been keeping up may have noticed that I'm starting to lose my eye-site. The beginning of which comes with a lazy eye. Thought, I don't like calling it a "lazy eye". I prefer to think of the eye as just under-incentivized and I've been told that with my body fighting off all the other stuff, it's just too busy to work on the eye.
     The biggest tragedy in this whole eye debacle is that I have, until very recently, used my xBox 360 as a means for taking my mind off of the pain. Now that my eye has disenfranchised and seems to be working for an independent contractor I am unable to play most of the games I have, previously, enjoyed. It's hard to fight Hitler and Hydra when there are two Captain America's on the screen.
     Anyhow... That leaves my xBox up for sale. The Unit, 4Gig Hard Drive, Two Controllers, Two Rechargeable Batteries, Plug & Brick and HDMI Cable... Every thing two people need to play a basic game of Halo or Captain America even. I'm asking $175 because that's what I know I can get for it and it's a huge sacrifice for me, even though I can't use it any longer, to give it up.


     Please keep us in your prayers. Donate when/if you can. We're struggling to make it through... just like most of you are. Kristin could use your prayers more than I. After all, she has to put up with me and all my whining. All you have to hear is the, "Choose joy!" part of it all. You know?

     Love you all. Keep the faith. Remember that the place you're standing in is a whole lot better than it could be and hug somebody you love. In fact, hug somebody you don't like. It can't do you any harm and it's sure to confuse the heck out of them. Right?

And now, for those of you unfamiliar (or not familiar enough) with Josh Groban's work, here's the official video for Higher Window:

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