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Friday, September 25, 2009

shadow of the day


And the sun will set for you
The sun will set for you
And the shadow of the day
Will embrace the world in grey
And the sun will set for you


yesterday started as most days do. i got up around 5, checked email, blogged, listened to some tunes, showered, dressed, and drove to the workplace. it seemed a bit chaotic, but nothing unmanageable, and it was to be another long day, as i had picked up a party after work. the last party of the month and perhaps for a while. those events i enjoy, however, they do take a toll on me in addition to the other two jobs i have.

i was meeting with a client to discuss his smoking cessation and it was taking a healthy turn. i have been applying some techniques i learned at a recent training and i am noticing some visible results. with this particular client, we had met about 2 weeks prior. during that session, it became so apparent that he really had no interest in talking with me, nor did he feel very comfortable in general that i had cut the session short to accommodate where he then seemed to be. it was a relief this time to have a more connected feeling. we were discussing alternative behaviors and the emotional attachment to habits when he seemed to really start to engage. he told me that he regretted being so distant the last session, but he had just received news that a good friend of his had died and he was in shock. he named his friend and continued on about how the friend had called him a few weeks prior to that to reconnect after a long time and told him of his liver cancer and ask him to be a pall bearer.

but most of this is moot here for me. when the client named his friend, my heart sank. the friend was my friend as well. i had seen him only a month or so earlier and had no idea he had passes. i wanted to cry. i had known him intimately and for over 15 years. we had partied together. we had played together. we had lived parallel lives and when i heard he had cancer earlier this summer, my impression was that it was skin cancer. i now realized i was very wrong.

there are times when the results of our choices become quite evident in this life. the good times, once so exaggerated and technicolor, become matte and low light. the last few times i had seen him before this summer had been spotty and defracted. he had been in a play at the off-broadway theatre company and had done a very decent job. he had spent a good deal of his life in theatres. i'm not sure how involved in that company he was, but i had spotted several tweakers (perhaps ex-tweakers) in the cast and the staff. all those i knew had lost weight and seemed different. i also ran into him a few years ago just before i got clean. it was an insane encounter, directly taken from the pages of "the heart is deceitful above all else" by j.t. leroy- i.e. truck drivers with lace panties and endless circuit of emails, voice mails, and poppers.

through the years though, we remained friendly. i thought him quite intelligent and quite well intentioned. he had been a lawyer, but i believe the tweaking got the best of him. when i was in treatment, he came to one group session. but he decided treatment wasn't for him. and i know that mindset quite well.

i was saddened to discover he has gone. relieved though, that the carcinoma and all its tentacles will hollow him no more. i feel sad in general, too. i am reminded once again that there is an exit on this road we travel, and we do not often choose when it comes. i won't get to see him again, nor have a chance to heal together. and i am sad i can't fix things, or rewind time, or change the outcome.

sometimes goodbye's the only way

today's sound choice is linkin park with "shadow of the day"




Documents

4 comments:

C said...

it reminds me that, as William Penn wrote, "Life is eternal, Love is immortal and death is only a horizon, and a horizon nothing save the limits of our sight." I'm remind of this frequentely as I travel around this state. I will round a corner, crest a pass, and a whole new vista appears that I never would have know if the world was flat.

Java said...

I'm sorry for the loss of your friend.

Is there regret? I sense what might be a touch of regret at not having seem him before he died.

Regret is a mean bastard, but not always a bad idea. I've been mulling over some instances where regret may play a part.

Bigg said...

I thought this was beautiful even if it was sad. Very lyrical.
Of course, I love that song too.

Sheria said...

I am sorry for the death of your friend and I wish that I could lift your sorrows.

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