It is what got him in the end.
The same brilliant mind that kept his feet moving underneath him as he traversed airport tarmacs across the country, leaving rental cars at departure gates whenever he was running late for a plane that would take him back to his beloved and waiting family. That very brain that encouraged wise, commercial estate investments, as well as created an abundance of material wealth in his own life.
In the end, he couldn't shut off the endless pursuit of economic possibility.
In the end, the "What if's?" and the "Why not's?" became mountains of insurmountable uncertainty.
In the end, there was no reprieve to be discovered in the midst of Pandora's box.
In the end, only the gnawing, achingly-empty tinkering of endless thought pattern remained.
In the end, death became the way - the only way to quiet and to peace.
He had waltzed into my life only eight months before.
I did not recognize the great extent to which we were kindred spirits until I heard his best friends eulogizing him at his memorial service. While overlooking a seaswept vista, they spoke of his boundless energy, and of his intellectual as well as human curiosity that drove him to both ask questions as well as stick around long enough to hear answers. They attested to his honest caring for each human being who graced his path and of his deep connection to the wider expanse of world found around him - from mountains to stars and from sea to his family and friends. He was adventurous and spontaneous. He was fervently loved - by hundreds in that room alone.
He was me. And I am him.
He is you. And you are me.
And his fucking mind killed him. It ripped him from us and from the pleasures of this world. We can no longer revel in shared, sweet embraces. His grandchildren will not know their grandfather's touch and his children will forever miss his generous spirit. There are no more vistas to be spied for Al. No more mountains to climb and no more excruciating beauty to mull over and to, once again, exclaim over, "Isn't this Beautiful?!" No more glances of unconditionality between Al and his wife of forty years. "She was his anchor," they said. "And, he was her freedom." No more weight, no more mass, no more fighting against one's nature just to try to stay afloat. He's gone......
We're still here, however.
And, at some point, it becomes a choice ~
what do you choose?
To die sooner,
or to live a long life of aching misery?
How about, instead, looking for a middle ground?
What about cultivating a dark, quiet, silent, still place
inside where all the excess drops off like melted butter and
all that remains is the pure, unadulterated you?
me?
us?
this
moment
now.
nothing more
nothing less.
You can do it.
I believe in you....
