I don’t want to start with a prologue, I just want to say; I’ve been going through a lot; too much for me to process into words that don’t waver in front of me the moment they are written. I haven’t known how to write words that aren’t already asking to be translated and transformed.
I knew there would be a time to dive back into this space, I just didn’t know when, and then, my eyes puffy from crying, I said to Dan, “I just need to write.”
So here I am, asking for prayers for my flesh and blood guardian angel. I’m sure I’ve told him, but if I haven’t (because I often speak to him in my mind), I refer to him as my ‘godfather John’. Before Dan, he was the first person in my life that I trusted. He was the first person that helped me learn to trust myself, and by ‘learn’ I mean that he taught me to be a work in progress…he is one of the angels that has brought me into the life I’m living today. He was one of the first people to point out that I had a skill with writing. He helped me to believe in my intelligence, emotional and intellectual. He witnessed, reflected, and called me on my shit, and this man that I’ve never met, became my family.
It began with serendipity. That serendipity became another pillar of my spiritual faith. I’d moved to New Zealand with my ex, September 11 had occurred, and I was destroying myself with the stress of acupuncture school. The eating disorder I thought I’d left had reared its ugly head and was trying to destroy me. I’d been in a 12 step program prior but I didn’t have that option, not in the situation I was in, so I went online and began to search for support. I found the writings of someone who made my spirit say, “Yes. Yes. Yes…this.” And then, in desperation, I wrote to several sponsors.
The one that replied was the one that I had declared, “Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes…this.”
And at first I was terrified to email with him. I had left high school early. To this day, I feel a protectiveness when others are mocked or criticized for their punctuation and grammar because it took me until the age of twenty-five, and wanting to save my life, to gain the confidence to correspond through writing.
John became my witness, my register of sanity in an insane situation. It wasn’t that he ever dictated anything to me. He never tried to fix things for me or tell me what I was doing wrong; he simply reflected and suggested. He was always there, steady and unconditional.
It doesn’t matter, now, why this was so important, but this steady support saved my life.
It allowed me to leave an abusive marriage and find the love of my life.
It allowed me to pursue my writing.
It allowed me confidence in giving birth to children.
And I always knew, no matter how negligent in my correspondence, that there was this godfather out in the world, loving me and believing in me and willing to hand me my ass if I stepped in the direction of self-destruction.
What a gift.
Honestly…what a gift.
There are quiet moments in my every day life when I think of him and speak to him and think, “I need to write him.”
There are quiet moments when I fear he will pass to the other side before I can say all of the things I want to say to him because I’m flaky and fatigued and narcissistic.
Tonight as the storm rages around our home and my eyes are puffy from crying because I said to my husband, “I’m not ready to be without him…and I’m worried about him”
I understand that all I can do is call out to all who have known a true guardian angel in their lives, and ask for prayers thrown into the night sky.
A declaration for all those that have loved boldly and fearlessly:
Let us have our time.
We all have a time.
Let it be a forever time.