Laughter and Heartbreak

  This blog has definitely become a fairweather friend to me, in that I can’t seem to normalize a writing schedule with it. Having said that, it’s also not been huge on my priority list what with all the life stuff to live.  Also I can be lazy so theres that. 
  The recent season has been a rough one, but I find myself less morose and more in waters I have never really been in before and that’s  the ocean of contentment, or maybe the sea of possibilities. Who knows, but I can say with certainty that every time something major in my life happens, especially the calamitous events, I no longer become the Eeyore I once did, or rail immediately against the heavens for such mistreatment. 
  No, these days there is a little bit more grace for my various situations, understanding that these too shall pass and at the end of the day the only things that absolutely have value are the relationships that you can’t place value on. As long as I have people living and caring and cheering me on, nothing else really matters in the long run. 
  I don’t say these things glibly. This isn’t wisdom attained lightly at all.  In fact, for anyone reading who knows me and my history,  my life has been anything but easy and yet, it took me this long to accept the truth of a simple fact.  Grace in love. 
  When we are loved and give our love, we find grace.  I have spent the majority of my life feeling unworthy of this truth, this reality, but lately I have tried hard to embrace it and to emulate more the people I cherish in my life.  My Dad, with his unwavering and unconditional love, my friends for their support, wisdom, and differing views and opinions that, even when I argue against, I’m listening to and thinking earnestly about.  I treasure that and them so damn much. 
  Another reality I’m facing (and struggling with at times, In all honesty) is showing people how you feel and what you think of them, purely in the positive sense. 
  I’m trying to tell people what they mean to me, to speak the soft words that hover over my heart, to touch an arm, shake a hand, hug a friend who is hurting, to bless them with kindness and love wherever I am able as it’s been so freely lavished on me. 
  This is so counter to how I normally think and how a very bitter parent taught me to live. 
I grew up in a house where tears were tools and words were weapons and love was a commodity to withhold if you didn’t do as you were told.  I grew up hearing everything under the sun but the words ‘I love you’ from
A parent who’s heart is too cold and bitter to even say that to her own children, instead mocking, belittling and abusing.  
  I’m late to the game, you see. I’ve always been a late bloomer, heck! My last growth spurt I was 21! I’m late to the game of life and love but at least I made it. I’m figuring it out on a fairly steep curve. My dad, who is battling cancer, has taught me so much about this and about cherishing life, and fighting for what’s right, about loving and showing that love with words and deeds.  He called me a good man as I stood next to his hospital bed...
  That was the first time I feel like I can accept that truth and love.  I finally feel like I deserve that blessing.  But the man laying in bed battling for his life still made sure to tell a room
Full of family that his ‘outsider’ son (as I tend to think of myself) is a good man. It cut me to the core... in the best possible way. That’s grace. To bless someone else while stuggling with your own battle. 
  I have learned a lot about opening up from Oma, who lives a life very well lived.  She filled up any room she entered, lit it up and then fed you till you couldn’t move, then threatened the wooden spoon if you didn’t have one more plate.  I really miss her voice. It was sad and hard to let her go, to say those goodbyes, but it was a small comfort to be there with and for that family that took me in and fed me, shared their love with me and never once asked anything from me, no second thoughts given.  That’s also a lesson I’m struggling to learn.  

  I’ve fallen into a good place... not easy, never that, but good nonetheless.  I can’t say it enough... I’m a lucky guy.  Maybe more than I deserve...
Or maybe exactly as much as I deserve...

And to everyone reading this who encouraged me, talked with me, texted and messaged, who held me in my grief and were just there when needed... it meant more than mere words can express. 

 A fluffy post. Cheers all 

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