On Memorial Day weekend, they were playing requests. On FB, James requested "Stairway to Heaven" for his lifetime friend and sweetheart, Tina, who literally died in his arms a little more than a year ago. Having lost my oldest sister in January, a brother to murder two years ago, I was moved by his loss and his heart worn words. I wrote to him and told of my loss, how I felt about his request and sorrow and wished him well. James wrote back, and we continued this way for a couple of months. It seemed natural as breathing to reveal ourselves with bleeding honesty. His loneliness and sense of all good things being wiped from his life, and the rest of his life, was wrenching. Tina had been his light--a peaceful, positive and forgiving soul. She believed in filling yourself and others with positive love--that good follows good. And James, having reconnected with her after some rough years, was learning to rebuild himself and his life through her example. So it was so much more than losing a mate when he lost her. Now he felt untethered, floating in dark depression and an unsure future.
I'd been divorced after nearly thirty years with the same man. I told him I'd been stricken with a skin disorder that prevented me from intimate relations. So my loneliness also saw no future worth living; where in the world would someone like me find a man willing to love me in spite of what I couldn't offer in return? For a few years, I'd been on the edge. One attempt to end my life left me in a mental ward for a 72 hour observation. Scared straight, I can't say I lived my life--I simply continued to breathe through each hour, each day and night, week, month and year. If not for my faith, my children and my family, I'd been creeping dangerously close to giving the void another chance.
And then James wanted to meet face-to-face, and I was terrified. I kept putting it off. I still don't have a clear picture why. All I do know is that, in my mind, I already knew he was perfect for me. I worried about my heart . . . Vulnerable and close to starvation, I knew that one more blow and it would crack and break like a poorly cut diamond. Then one day, he sent a post saying that if he "didn't get out of my house tonight, I'm gonna lose it!" I knew that feeling too well; I told him "okay, let's do this. Come on over."
I knew the second I saw him that I was in trouble. His attractive FB profile picture did not do him justice. A glaring combination of Biker Bad Boy and the most tender smile I'd ever seen, he presented me with flowers. His joy was evident, and all I wanted to do was cry. We talked until 3 am, and I asked him to stay. And it's been a wind-in the-hair journey every day since.
I fit perfectly in his arms; my head nestles between his chest and shoulder like it was always meant to. His tender hands are always touching, stroking or simply at rest on my skin--which he loves, and which I thought was getting a bit rough. We're like teen-agers. Time apart is blissful agony. Constant texts of love-you's and thinking of your _____ keep us blushing. We've tried to take it slow, but apparently love doesn't know the speed limit. And, well, shit. I'm 57. I seriously doubt I'm due a second miracle. I've slipped this one under my coat and running for my life--and for his.
He talks of Tina often, and I feel I know her. I showed him a picture of myself at twenty-one; she and I could've been sisters. My manner and mind set are nearly the same as hers. At first, a big red flag hit me--REBOUND ROMANCE! I told James of my concern, and he said, adamantly, NOT at all. Discussed further, I no longer feel those red flags, just a communion with a gentle spirit we both feel has a good deal to do with our meeting.
The most amazing of all--he's made love to me. I'm totally at ease with him, and he is concerned and gentle with me. Sometimes we're slow and full of sensual intensity; most times frantic, as if all that's left is to crawl up under each other's skin. I don't question it too much, just as I don't want to jinx this obvious spiritual awakening we've both fallen into. There are too many "Holy crap!" coincidences to believe it "just happened".
We both love the Moody Blues. There's a song I've always kind of connected to myself: "Melancholy Man". For those of you who aren't familiar, it's about a person maybe a bit too introspective and sensitive for this world--a person who feels so much, they struggle to keep their feet on the earthly path. At the same time, their hearts are above in the stars, beyond this life. They know there's hope for change, for growth, for happiness . . . for love.
On his way home the other night, James called to tell me he heard a song on our station. The Moody Blues. Something about a man . . .?
"Melancholy Man"? I said.
"Yeah!" he said. "It's so me and you!"
The hair on my neck rose and tingled along with my love and hopes for our future.
Thank you, Sister Tina . . .
