Life and the world we live in is made up of choices. Choices that mold us to who we are and how people see us. We are, in a way, a small bit of paper. Our choices create folds in our lives that in the end become the origami of who we are and how people view us.
Some people emerge from life a beautiful swan and yet we can still see where their choices that were made in life; while they may be poor, wise, what-you-had-to-do, whatever category our mind places them in, they have consequences on the art of our soul. We see the tattered edges a rough life has given them.
Then there are people that make no other choices, but for themselves. Their origami of life leaves them with no shape. They are no more than a wade of misguided choices that leaves them with nothing and yet no matter how hard they might try to start anew – the folds and creases are already there and viewer cannot see beyond the waded mass of nothingness that has engulfed their soul.
I often share some of the rawest parts of my soul. The deepest darkest folds of my soul that some would say I should keep to myself, but I can’t. I can’t because in all of this I have gotten emails and comments from people that they are so glad I write.
This digital dictionary of clips and phrases from my personal origami let them know they are not alone in the world. For it’s more than ok to feel those feelings that flood over them (and sometimes consume) or at the very least that they are not alone in their quest to understand why things happen to them and how can they find the light through all of it.
I’ve never candy-coated the way I’ve felt about things. My emotions through this journey have been that evadable chalkboard where I can see where things used to be, but I’ve worked through them and erased the hurt and pain, but you can still the words etched into the board from where they use to reside. Unless the board is washed – they remain there. I have no urge to wash this board that sits so peacefully in the corner of my soul where the emotions of the heart and mind intersect; it’s help me be who I am and who I try to work towards daily. It’s never a perfect journey, but one I take one day at a time.
However, with everything that I shared here, there still have been things I have not. Things that I have come to call “toxic”. Parts of the life that Christopher and I had together. That upon all the conversations we had before his death he wished, over and over, that I never have to deal with. But I have.
I never have shared these toxic moments and feelings with anyone through this blog for my own personal morals and scruples. Don’t get me wrong – I’ve danced around the fire and sometimes when I’ve been really upset I dart my hand in and out of the flame just to see if I get burned. But never have I just laid it all down.
Why? Well I’m a better person than those “toxic” people. I don’t want Ethan one day to happen across this blog and read in my own words the way I see a part of his and my life. What happens if by the time he reads it my feeling on this “toxic” situation changes – the internet is forever. I owe it to Ethan to keep something’s to myself… Till now.
I feel as though my hand has been forced and well, if this comes to bite me later – then so be it. I am personally tired of trying to heal from this toxicity only to feel a false sense of being ok; then have that feeling quickly replaced by the cold emotional sting of a steel pipe across my chest and the hurt and pain returns that I have worked so hard to try and move past.
Christopher’s life wasn’t perfect. He grew up on the “wrong side of the tracks”. The joys in Christopher’s life where always filled with equal amount sadness, regret, overwhelming happiness and underlining fear. As he moved into his twenty’s he feared of becoming the one person who let him down in life over and over again; his father.
Now before people start to fidget in their chairs that I’m about to let lose a ton of dirty little secrets for the world to read. I’m not. I’m a better person than this. However, I think some things need to be said.
Christopher lived a torn life. A life that some would say was filled with so much and yet no one (other than his Aunts and my family) knew the pain that consumed his heart. He always felt as though his father didn’t care about him or the well being of his family. It’s a harsh thing to think as an adult and even harder when you discover it in early adulthood. He often sat in bed with his headphones on listening to music to help him relax from the day. And there wasn’t a week that went by that I didn’t hear a certain song pumping through those little ear buds as loud as his laptop could play it.
He was so incredibly attached to Everclear’s “Father of Mine”. And one day he and I had a conversation, which was short and yet all so telepathic on the same level. I asked him why that song got more playtime than anything else (even though I knew the answer before he said it). His comment.
“It’s the one thing that I wish I could tell my dad and yet I can’t because even if I did it wouldn’t mean a thing to him.”
(These are the parts of the song that meant the most to him…)
Father of mine
Tell me where have you been?
You know I just closed my eyes
My whole world disappeared
Father of mine
Tell me where did you go?
Yeah, you had the world inside your hand
But you did not seem to know
Father of mine
Tell me what do you see?
When you look back at your wasted life
And you don't see me
Sometimes you would send me a birthday card
With a five dollar bill
I never understood you then
And I guess I never will
My daddy gave me a name
(Then he walked away)
Father of mine
Tell me how do you sleep?
With the children you abandoned
I will always be weird inside
I will always be lame
Now I'm a grown man
With a child of my own
And I swear, I'll never let her know
All the pain I have known
As a wife to one of the most amazing men that has walked upon this mortal plain, it hurt to see him hurt. It hurt to listen the lies his father would tell. How he would confess his “sins” only to revert back to his old ways.
I know the Bible says to always forgive. But as people of this earth, how many times can we forgive only to know that in the end we will be hurt again. This was the cycle that was Christopher and his father. He dad would call and fill the air with sounds of his breathe telling him that he “Found God” and how “he has seen the error of his ways and could he be forgiven.” Each time Christopher forgave him, because he was his father and Christopher believed in the good of all people. Then normally 6 months later he would get hurt again.
This pain was something he never wanted Ethan to feel. Pain that he promised to him upon the day his birth that he would never go though and would protect him from. This promise was something Christopher and I talked about before his passing.
I told him it was a promise that I was uncomfortable making because I knew it would lead to confrontation and I knew in my mental state of losing the one I love(d) that I couldn’t do. But you know; some people just make it easy. Too easy.
To say that I was put through hell in the time after Christopher’s passing and before his services was an understatement and we will just leave it at that. But trust when I say it was enough to understand how much of a buffer Christopher was. He not only protected our family, and me, but he truly took a bullet for us. And in the words of Forest Gump – “And that’s all I have to say about that.”
This pain was enough for friends and family to intervene and ask that Ethan and I be given space and time to heal. And for the most part – this was given. Then Christmas of 2009 I received a Christmas card from Christopher’s dad who wanted to reach out Ethan. The card was written passive aggressively and the rage and anger I had for that man built up inside of me once again. I was not going to let Ethan fall victim to him. I made a promise to my husband. I saw for the first time the pain that filled me was the pain of Christopher’s life that filled every crevice of my mind, body and spirit. I took on his burden and it hurt and I would do anything to protect Ethan from one tenth of an ounce of anything Christopher went through. I became that mama bear who would do anything to protect her cub.
I sat down and wrote his father a letter. A letter that explains the best way I knew how and why Christopher felt the way he did. It was short given all the reasons that I could have explained further. It was clear in thought of all the emotions that I was trying to set forth. And in the end I explained how it was Christopher’s wish to shelter his child from someone that caused him so much pain. However, I was willing when Ethan turned 18, he was welcome to look for him. But until then – I asked for no contact.
It was harsh and I am sure feelings of rage filled him and his family when it was read. But the truth hurts. And if he was filled with rage then those chats of “forgiveness” were in vain. For to understand forgiveness is to understand the pain we put those through that we ask it from.
This Christmas I got another card from him. The card again was written to Ethan (in his wife’s handwriting) and passive aggressively makes a stab at wanting forgiveness. It talked of already asking me for forgiveness and yet – to this day I have heard none, other than I won’t give it. You can’t give what hasn’t been asked for.
This card also contained a $50 gift card for me to buy something for Ethan with it. This card sat on my desk for almost a week. I was so unsure of what I should do. This man and his life are still so “toxic” to me. The origami of his soul is nothing more than a crumpled wade in my eyes.
After some thinking and praying on what should be done with this gift card; I knew what I had to do. Christmas Eve, my mother and I went out to run some last minute errands. While in a Starbucks getting drinks for those at the house I noticed this woman in red. I was drawn to her and yet as many times as I brushed it off as “she’s wearing read in a muted colored store” I observed her. I noticed her friend bought her coffee. I could not shake the feeling that I was being drawn to her. I noticed every line around her face. The way her eyes sat so gentle on her face. How perfect her hair curled out from under her hat.
The more I observed her; the more I was drawn to her. It was as if I had known her. While we waited for our drinks I told my mother I would be right back and walked up to her and her friend and explain how I knew they didn’t know me, but could a take a second of their time.
I pulled out this gift card and place it in her hand. I expressed how this card came into my life and that I didn’t need it, nor did I desire it. I asked that she take it and use it. The only thing that I had to ask was that if she didn’t want it or desire it to “pay it forward” to someone she might know who would need it.
I watched as her eyes glassed over as she fought back tears. She told me how she had lost her husband a few months ago and how this was the most beautiful gift she had been given. To say my heart swelled with joy is an under statement. I gave her a warm smile and told her “Pax” while I walked away. However, I walked away feeling seven feet taller and filled with an enormious sense of pride.
I took something that in my mind I saw as completely toxic and turned it into something beautiful for someone else. The beauty of something tragic and using what I learned from having a great man in life to bring joy into someone else’s life who might find this holiday season harder than most.
I will always be amazed how God took my simple prayers of finding strength in a situation that I sometimes feel pralized in and not only gave me strength; but how he brought someone into my life who needed the same thing. We were kindred spirits during a time of year where most are consumed with material items – we, those who have lost the ones we love, would give up our material positions just have a second glace at what we have lost.
I pray that woman was given the same strength I was that day and that the sun shined down a light brighter for her from that point on. As far as my “toxic” situation. I stand by my letter. If all he wants is forgiveness, he can have it, but the bible says no where that just because I forgive means that I have to subject me or my family to them. Mine and Ethan’s life filled with more love than I could hope to be blessed with that I don’t need the drama from those that might cause more pain.
The origami of my soul is still one that I work on; but the one thing I do know. While life itself might leave me tattered around the edges; life has shown me the beauty that resides within.
