He had the most amazing hug. With his big stong brown arms around me I felt loved and protected.
In time I learned that that strength was not guaranteed–that at any moment his brain could break away from his body–leaving it spazming in agony.
If you ever want to see the look on the face of someone in hell, watch an epileptic seizure. Thank god he never remembered–the pain was so intence to survive he forgot not just that hour, but sometimes that day–or maybe the fire going through his brain damaged his recent memory most. I always thought it would be his brain–not his big strong heart–that would fail him.
He once told me that every time he had a thought that challenged the nature of the universe or society he would feel a seizure threaten him.
Why am I talking about this, when it was only a part of what made him him? Because I think that going through this made him stronger, made him refuse to live in fear. He felt fear, just as everyone does, but he didn’t let it rule him. He wasn’t afraid of what people thought or of following his dreams.
He also wasn’t about material things. This was both a curse and a blessing. A curse in that material things often did not seem to be about him, and because it also caused him to neglect his body. A blessing, because he was able to think and share on a spiritual and mental level that is hard to attain.
He also had such a deep compassion for people. He had such a patient way with people, even in our foolishness. He would smile a big, patient, tricksters smile at his friends impatience and lack of tact.
Damn I miss that man. I always thought that even if it didn’t work out between us as lovers, I would have a life-time friend.
I hope his next life he get’s a strong, healthy body.
Leave a comment
No comments yet.