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If you’re going through hell, keep going.
And once the storm is over, you won’t remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won’t even be sure, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm, you won’t be the same person who walked in. That’s what this storm’s all about.
It goes both ways, Sweetheart.
Thank you, Honey!
It is with great intensity, and reflection that I looked upon this moment, just now- today, in life. And everything it means.
Just now- out on the smoke deck, having one as I sat atop some box while I gazed passively at the stars, and contemplated the infinite, but definable possibilities unfolding in the course of today- I saw a female shipmate, standing there at the precipice of the abyss, some distance off from my, and marveled at the paradoxical variation of my situation to her own.
I whispered to her mother, to purge me of my cancer, and said my final goodbyes to the bullets within the box pursed in my pocket. We are nearly through with our acquaintance, for good. In a way only something so momentous can deliver. Something so tremendous, and significant.
I told her that I loved her daughter. And that every single moment of my life prior seemed to be building to this moment. That I could give something so small, and yet so insanely big to someone else. Myself. Absent all fears, and instilled with such great confidence & poise.
I jumped gracefully from my perch atop my thinkbox, onto the nonskid of the smoke pit deck beneath my feet. And took a final drag as I stared intently into the heavens. Pondering what might be unfolding, or was yet to unfold in the vast distance of the horizons before me. Somewhere on this tiny planet we share as our commonality. The dirty earth she treads no win lieu of the watery bastion to which I am now commanded & imprisoned.
Walking back, into the hangar bay. Shoulder naturally taught and high. Breath eased, and unburdened through my pact with her mother, and Matt- my spiritual totems.
As I leaned over for a sip of water from the fountain in the p-way thereafter- I was met by a man and a woman with whom I worked. Melissa asked if I had a menthol fag, to which I kindly obliged and handed the nail in the coffin to her counterpart whose human name I do not recall. “Thanks, darling.” she said to me, with a happy voice unencumbered by the night’s tedium or the bog of early morning.
“Always,” I smiled. With a grin so sure, and calm. And so happy, and complete. Fully aware of my own predicament, and preponderances and complexities of what this day is unfolding before me so many thousands of miles away.
Always- and never. Never again to be the same. But always to be the stronger, and the better through such a massive giving, in the way of conquering all my fears, and the burdens of my life through such a singular woman with whom nothing less than total love & trust can be conquered thusly.
This humble narrative is but a fraction of the puzzle that is the entirety of the play that is my life. And these thoughts just a gathering of the whole which composes my being. Every moment, of every day. So rare, and tremendous, and innate.
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