The Waiter

It didn’t dawn on me until I pulled up the empty palate on which I now type, that the story I came here to tell relates somewhat to that of Whitney Houston’s.  And while I don’t want to be one of many who associates her with addiction on the day after her passing, I can’t help but do so since it relates to the subject at hand.  And in the end, maybe that’s the struggle I’ll always have – trying to look past someone’s faults and frailties because I want to honor the good and the beautiful.  I never really thought this was a bad quality – seeing only the good in people.  In fact, I always wished I could pass that message along to the world.  To some extent, I still believe it’s a good way to live.  But when it gets in the way of the bigger picture, when it clouds one’s vision to the sick and unhealthy, the destructive and downright wrong, you simply have to retire the rose-colored glasses.

Journal Entry October 25, 2009: He moved like the sunset

We all have those people who occupy a huge place in our hearts, even though they aren’t present in our everyday lives.  I certainly have my share of those.  But one in particular has weighed heavily on my mind over the past year.  I’ve mentioned him briefly on a few occasions – once as a reminder of how deeply I tend to involve myself in the “messy lives of others”, and another in my entry about my dry spell.  Yes, the man in question happens to be the last to go there.  And while I’m sure we could all use a nice, juicy entry right about now, that is the furthest thing from my mind.

If you haven’t noticed by now, much of my actions follow from intuition and strong perceptions.  I’m lucky enough to be blessed with a high level of connection with others – or rather a deeper connection than most – and I do my best to not ignore when I feel something in the pit of my stomach.  That feeling hit me this afternoon and didn’t let up until I began to do a little searching…searching that led me to the address of a prison in Hunstville, Texas.

Lost?  Of course you are.

Around this time last year I found myself incredibly connected to a gem of a man who embodied that perfect combination of sweet and strong that every woman looks for.  But what sealed the deal for me was the way this man interacted with my girls.  Rarely did I find someone who not only stimulated me mentally, sexually, etc., but who made my girls feel so comfortable and so valued at the same time.  Too good to be true?  I don’t like to think of it that way, but when all the cards were laid out, I really didn’t have much of a choice in the matter.

Not long after we met, he got arrested with his second DWI and was facing certain prison time.  Being the optimist, I tried to keep his spirits up the best I could, but I felt him slipping away almost as quickly as he came…until he eventually disappeared altogether.  It would be easy for me to write off someone in a similar situation if I didn’t feel the least bit of respect for him.  But we’re talking about a man who knew the position he was in and communicated his reluctance to get involved not only in my life, but in the lives of my daughters in light of his circumstance.  Not that I disagreed, but I found it very difficult to disengage completely.  I dropped him a line every now and then letting him know I was thinking about him, but that was the extent of my interaction.

Until today.

I felt that unmistakable pull of the universe this afternoon – with his name in the center – and I began to search for any sign of his whereabouts.  It didn’t take long before I was staring at his date of sentence, current location, and date of projected release.  Somehow I was surprised… as if I never really thought it would happen.  The interesting thing is that the last time I felt a similar pull – and let him know he was in my thoughts – was the day before he was sentenced and taken in – a reality I wasn’t aware of at the time.

So I sat there – looking at the screen with his new form of identification and his potential parole date – thinking about how shitty that must be – and hoping that this ends up being a positive thing for him.  I know the statistics.  I know the potential.  And I know that if there’s anyone in the world who can come around, it will be him.

One of my readers at that time left me the following note: “Don’t be surprised if you find yourself incarcerated someday.”

I immediately sought clarification for metaphorical versus literal meaning and my suspicions for the metaphorical side proved to be true.  But I didn’t seek further clarification – an act that I know was a necessary evil.  I’m a huge advocate for asking “what do you mean?”  And 9 times out of 10, it’s an appropriate and healthy way to respond.  But this time?  In this context?  It just happened to be one of those unknowns that needed to remain that way.  It’s a truth about myself that he couldn’t define…only I can.

In the two years that followed, I wrote him on a regular basis while he served out his prison sentence.  He taught me a bit about being realistic during that time, but he never wavered from his constant encouragement of me as a woman, as a mother and a professional, as a human.  He was a brilliant man – well read and practical.  Our letters were anything but surfaced and I suppose you could say we actually got to know each other within those pages.  There was a time when my writing stopped because I was feeling that all-too familiar feeling of foreboding – not knowing what was to become of this thing we were doing.  But I got over that and our written communication continued on a regular basis until I received a text message one day that read simply: “I’M FREE!!!”

Since that time, we spoke on the phone a few times and he said he’d be in my area sooner than later to visit family and wanted to see me as well.  I felt so happy for him for having done his time and for sounding like he was making a change in his life.  Two text messages later, he is gone.  Calls go directly to his voicemail now – something I realized when the girls and I called to wish him a happy birthday back in December.  That fact alone – that he didn’t respond to us singing him happy birthday – makes me fear the worst.  And I honestly don’t know how to feel about that.

Is it wrong to let optimism take such a front seat? I am aware that one of my biggest personal obstacles to overcome is the need to make a difference in lives – to encourage improvement. Fucking hell, I live for helping people through tough times.  Most of the time, I can tell when it’s something that isn’t worth my time.  This man, however?  There’s just something that has kept me drawn in and motivated.  I’ve always had this great deal of faith in him, without really…. I mean really knowing him.

But today? I’m letting it – and him – go.