Dearly Beloved VIII - Twilight

          August 31, 2020

Dearly Beloved,

          Being bed ridden this past week or so has been a frustrating experience. The grogginess, the pulsating pain searing through flesh and bone, the nonproductive hours. I know I should be resting, but I just can't. I'm weathered, weary, and exhausted of this predicament. From time to time, I manage to feel my way to the bathroom. In an instantaneous flash, I'm bathed in fluorescent lighting. I wash the sleep off my eyes to take a better look at myself upon the mirror: eyes are red and stare complacently into my reflection; whiskers of facial hair are here and there; the bags under my eyes have gotten more conspicuous; my hair is matted, disorganized. In short, I'm a mess, and I'm apathetic to fix myself up. I also still have that palpable scar that's on my left eyebrow and the faint, thin scar across my right cheek, my "childhood treasures". My forehead is smaller and my lips are thinner than what I once believed. I have to wonder: When was the last time I really looked at myself in the mirror? It is late, it is early, and now is not the time to be awake. So I return to bed quarantined, exiled from the world for possessing a pseudo-deadly illness.

          We always did our best to offer much needed support to each other, even if it meant that the other was risking his health. It always made our illnesses much easier to manage. It allowed us to talk, to reminisce, and to reflect. Sometimes, I found myself wanting to get sick just to have more time together. A more softer, vulnerable side of us exposed itself  when we would talk. It's almost as though we're reliving our college years for that moment in those moments. We were insecure of our lives and futures, as though it all rested on a flip of a coin rather than discipline, planning, and education. This time, however, is an exception, especially with Claire and Matthew due very soon. You don't want to risk any complications, and I understand. I want what is best for them, too, even if it means enduring this illness alone, trapped in this comfortable prison that is our master bedroom. 

          I don't know how I did it, but I managed to muster enough strength to peer through the window. What I saw welled up emotions within me and I couldn't help but gently weep. I saw the most heavenly sunset: the vast ocean of sky, a sleepy amber, splotched with hints of violets, blues, and reds, becoming more evident the further it is away from the sun; the sun itself, a delicate orange, sits on the horizon, if only for a moment; and the clouds, puffy balls of cotton, hang impeccably across the twilight sky. It was one of those moments where I wished to escape, with you by my side. All I could think about was spending this sunset with you alone, atop a gentle hill, and be amazed by this simple gift of life itself. But I'm here, sick and tired and helpless, and you're too distracted to notice what is above us. It's sad, isn't it? So, will you do me a small favor?...

...Will you watch the sky for me?...

...As though the sun will crawl across the sky for a final time?...

...Will you allow precious memories of our time together come cascading back?...

...Do you remember the times we...

...And all the times we...

...And should have...

....And were going to...?...

...I know...

...Will you watch the night?...

...As a blanket of little lights cover and lull the madness of this world into a slumber...

...If you believe in that sort of thing...

...And know that I'll always be with you, in starlight...

                                                                With a love that will never get sick,

                                                                                                       Your Lover

Dearly Beloved VII - Trust

July 24, 2019

Dearly Beloved,

          The four of us spending time together as a family (though Lucas isn't here just yet, he's still part of the family) at our beloved city park has been the recent highlight of my day in recent weeks. Our leisure time together has really ebbed away much harbored pressure from work. These lulled moments of ours remind me why I endure the demanding hours, the inexorable demands, and the complacency of the work environment. The more I remember these convictions, the more I feel as though I'm slipping in between the space of two worlds of work and family. Life just seems to move on without me; Julia has learned to walk and is now learning to communicate with the adults around her. Lucas is perpetually growing, developing, and perhaps even anticipating his departure from the womb. Then, there's you. As much as I hate to confess it, you don't seem so familiar to me at the moment, even though you're my wife, my best friend, and the mother of my children. So why do you seem so distant? So foreign to me? Just what the hell happened? Am I worried? Just a little bit. Am I afraid? Not at all.

          You see, years ago, I accidentally stumbled upon a beautiful Japanese tale - of danger and peril, of trust and friendship. It's a simple short story of a cursed boy, exiled to a forbidden castle by his village, fearing that the curse will cause harm to the village. Though the boy was imprisoned inside the castle, he manages to escape his confines and begins exploring the castle for a way out. Upon further exploration, he finds a captivated girl, harassed and chased by shadowed creatures, which makes their escape that much more desperate. The two eventually reach the castle's main gates, with the drawbridge extended to the main land. However, the castle's queen, who revealed herself to be the girl's mother, prevents the pair from leaving the castle by recapturing her daughter and sending the boy to his presumed death by knocking him off the bridge (he only lost consciousness as he fell down to the castle's lower levels). The boy struggles to climb back up to the main castle to find the girl again. Along the way, he discovered the magical sword that served as the key to the castle, and as the bane to finally subdue the shadow creatures. Eventually, the boy finds the girl, though she's petrified, and proceeds to find the queen. After a brief exchange of words, the queen reveals that she dealt in the dark arts, using former prisoners to extend her life (the shadow creatures encountered in the castle were the remains of those prisoners) and now plans to use her daughter to start a new life for her own. After a lengthy conflict, the boy was able to defeat the queen for the sake of girl, but with the queen's death, the castle begins to crumble. He loses consciousness from the falling debris, and the girl carries the boy to a small boat underneath the castle. Though she makes certain that he will be safe, she makes the sacrifice to stay behind, along with the descending castle. Finally, the boy reawakens, washed upon a sandy shore. After a brief search, the girl is also found, safe and sound.

          What makes this simple story engrossing is that this story doesn't progress conversationally. In fact, a language barrier exists between both the boy and girl, so the story unfolds through the details of their actions, their surroundings, and the constant, looming danger that the shadows pose. The beauty of this story is that the boy and the girl establish and build their friendship through the simple gesture of holding hands. It's greatly emphasized in harrowing moments where the pair must split up, and even more so when the girl was at the mercy of those creatures from time to time. And no matter where they went throughout the castle, the girl always trusted in the boy in the paths he took, trusting that he will get them closer to the exit, even though at times they had to backtrack in order to move on.

          Somehow, I can't help but sense that our friendship parallels theirs: the sense of adventure, the unspoken bonds, persistent dangers that that strive to tear everything apart. Furthermore, I am absolutely confident that even if we didn't understand each other, if we shared a language barrier of our own, it would not matter. If our life together could be played back to us like a silent film to the soundtrack of our lives, it would be evident that our love is much deeper that what it seems right now. Those calm afternoons, the spontaneous kisses, the rich laughter, those subtle tears, our hearty embraces, our intimacy, our daydreams, fantasies, and illusions. It's there! It's this self-evident truth that dispels any hints of fear and insecurity within me. We communicated so much more by our gestures, our hands, our bodies in ways our spoken words, or even these lengthy letters of mine, can ever express. But of course this doesn't mean we don't need to talk. Of course we do. We were always each other's ears, able to calmly listen to our expressions of frustration, hopes, and opinions. Honestly, I love the sound of your voice, soft and sweet whenever you sing to Julia and Lucas, so heavenly as you hum peacefully to yourself. I'm simply worried that we'll drift apart, becoming strangers in each other's lives, in our marriage, and in our family. I don't want that for us.


                                                              With a love of an unspoken bond,

                                                                                                   You Lover