Fifteen Months, Fifteen Days

October 04, 2023

Fifteen months and fifteen days ago my life ended.

Or, I thought it had.

The woman I loved, Lorena Alcala, died of leukemia.

It was only then that I understood Camus’ admonition: “There is but one truly serious philosophical problem and that is suicide. Judging whether life is or is not worth living amounts to answering that fundamental question of philosophy.” I pondered that problem for months. I read innumerable books and articles on grief, all of which assured me that I was not insane to think about such things, but rather, normal, that grief is a “process” and that while I would never “move on,” I would, one day, learn to live again, that I would decide life is, indeed, worth living.

Today is that day.

Just as Lorena taught me what mature love means, the pain that has tracked me like a wounded animal since her death has taught me that life is worth living, that there are people who care that seem to come out of nowhere, people who have helped me selflessly along this most tortuous part of my life, people who would suffer upon my death, people who need me or at least find their lives better, or easier, as a result of my existence. I have learned that spending time with friends or family maybe just a moment, but it may be the time of my life.

I have learned to face my worst-feared fantasy — to be alone. Indeed, I have learned to appreciate my time alone, which is most of my time, as an opportunity for thought, reflection, contemplation, and meditation. Indeed, I have developed an affinity for solitude and inner monologue. While I have always been introspective, now that introspection is not quite as dark or judgmental.

I have learned I cannot depend on others to fulfill me, that whether I am fulfilled or not sits squarely on my shoulders.

I have learned that I want to live with people who readily admit their mistakes rather defend the indefensible, who laugh at their human falllability.

I no longer have time for the mean-spirited

I have learned that taking my dogs on their daily walks is not a chore, but an opportunity to watch and learn from other sentient beings capable of fully enjoying the present moment.

I have learned to cook, at first because I got tired of eating out of cans, and later because cooking is an accomplishment, one that I take pride in.

I have learned to love the feelings of the breeze in my face, the sun on my skin, and the views of the countryside from my terrace.

I learned (finally admitted) that I dislike travel. After 40 years chasing airplanes around the world for business, I have PTSD. If I never see the inside of another airplane, I will not feel lesser for it.

I have learned to do absolutely nothing, with intention.

I have learned not to care too much about the cards life deals, but simply play the hand I am dealt as best I can and leave it there with no concern or angst or worry about the result.

I have learned that most of life’s important events are not within my control.

I learned that while there is a host of things I have done and said that I deeply regret, and there is nothing I can do to change the past. I can only apologize, sincerely.

I have learned not to fear the future. After all, what is there to fear? We all know how this turns out in the end, and I want this to end with me at peace with my family and friends and my conscience.

And I have learned all of this in fifteen months and fifteen days. I trust more opportunities to learn are coming my way.