During this recent period of time, this month-plus from hell, I have often thought of my second wife and of my children, all of my children, and I have felt so very sad to have missed all these years with them, and with the grandchildren, most of whom I have never even met. I wanted them to understand how very much I love them all, even the little ones. Alone in my little room, still a foreign place to me, without a history other than a short one as a sick room, without a close friend, without family, in a small place on a small island on the other side of the vast world, I felt desperately lonely, lost, displaced. People make choices sometimes which, unexpected, unimagined, fling them to the far corners of the universe. They are the choices we make in concert with the choices other people make, and sadly, when admixed, snatch the world from our hands and leave us behind.
How strange it is, my stepdaughter once said, that you were so central once upon a time, and then just disappeared. I have tried over the years to hold to my fingertips by whatever means possible, online, through social media platform. And yet to them, or so it seems, without a physical presence that they can see and touch, I no longer exist. Or rather, I exist in memory only, in stories of the past, like one who has died.
I am reminded of an episode from the old Star Trek series. Captain Kirk has been caught in some sort of weird space glitch and disappears. The crew members believe him to be dead--for, you see, he is not there. But really he is right there, floating around among them. Soon, one or another of them begins to see him. I saw him! The captain! He's alive. Of course, no one believes their story at first. You've just got to accept the truth, Lieutenant Uhura. He's gone. But the evidence steadily increases. Alone, floating, Kirk seeks his old crewmates, reaching out. All that is needed is for them to seek him.
Perhaps there is an episode of The New Generation where Picard disappears and no one cares. Lol.
I have not disappeared, my loves. I am here. I hunger for your gesture, I wait on renewal, faithfully ready to become.
I was born a lucky man. I inherited the entire world. And then I added all of you, an overabundance, to my astounding good fortune. You are the treasure of my heart--an untouched treasure for the last eight years, and therefore one which, though locked in this fleshly vault, accrues its own gathering of interest year by year. I see you in my dreams, and we speak, and we embrace. I long to see you all again, to be for you both what I am and what I should have been, to somehow live the absent years.
My love is not absent. It knows no bounds. It merely waits to be received.
How strange it is, my stepdaughter once said, that you were so central once upon a time, and then just disappeared. I have tried over the years to hold to my fingertips by whatever means possible, online, through social media platform. And yet to them, or so it seems, without a physical presence that they can see and touch, I no longer exist. Or rather, I exist in memory only, in stories of the past, like one who has died.
I am reminded of an episode from the old Star Trek series. Captain Kirk has been caught in some sort of weird space glitch and disappears. The crew members believe him to be dead--for, you see, he is not there. But really he is right there, floating around among them. Soon, one or another of them begins to see him. I saw him! The captain! He's alive. Of course, no one believes their story at first. You've just got to accept the truth, Lieutenant Uhura. He's gone. But the evidence steadily increases. Alone, floating, Kirk seeks his old crewmates, reaching out. All that is needed is for them to seek him.
Perhaps there is an episode of The New Generation where Picard disappears and no one cares. Lol.
I have not disappeared, my loves. I am here. I hunger for your gesture, I wait on renewal, faithfully ready to become.
I was born a lucky man. I inherited the entire world. And then I added all of you, an overabundance, to my astounding good fortune. You are the treasure of my heart--an untouched treasure for the last eight years, and therefore one which, though locked in this fleshly vault, accrues its own gathering of interest year by year. I see you in my dreams, and we speak, and we embrace. I long to see you all again, to be for you both what I am and what I should have been, to somehow live the absent years.
My love is not absent. It knows no bounds. It merely waits to be received.
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