Forever Grateful
Excerpt from Jari's analog diary:
2003/01/07 Forever Grateful
Sometimes I feel I don't show my gratitude enough. I try, I really do, but too often I pass things off as almost a given, as if the person in question must somehow be able to psychically divine my gratitude. Take my sister, for instance. She is more capable of divining my feelings than anyone, often completing my cycles of thought before I do. But how often do I really ever say "thank you"? Not often enough, certainly. I just sort of take it for granted that she knows when I have no idea if she actually does. So I guess I'll take now to say thank you. Thank you Taz, for everything. Words can never be enough to express it, but thank you.
There is a scene in my mind right now that took place a day or two ago. In it my sister and I shared in a very embarrassing moment, one which involved a change on confidences that neither of us would probably ever be able to confide in anyone else. And afterwards, neither one of us loved the other any less, or felt about the other any differently. It was just a close moment of shared understanding, the kind that overcomes and surpasses embarrassment and fear and regret and sorrow. There was nothing but the joy of our intermingled thoughts, the completeness of dropped barriers we didn't even know were there. I would say it's a moment I'll never forget, but life is big and full of twists and turns, and my poor brain has no hope of even beginning to capture or encompass it. We've shared moments like this before, many times, my sister and I, but I honestly don't remember any of them very well, and most not at all. Moments with just as much depth of feeling as this one. Some with more. No, I'll be grateful for today and enjoy the moment; let tomorrow worry about itself.
Taz isn't the only one I've been shirking on/to/with. There are so many other people in my life, some with names, some without, to whom I owe my eternal gratitude. They've been there for me when I needed someone to hold on to, they've trusted me when I didn't trust myself, they've loved me when I thought no one could. And I love them, each and every one. Thank you. All of you. I owe you my eternal thanks at the very least. I'm sorry I don't show it more, but I really, really am grateful, forever grateful.
Last night, I wrote a diary entry that included the song "Endless Night". It really fit my mood. To quote some of the words, "Where has the starlight gone, oh Endless Night?" and, "I'm trying to hold on, just waiting to hear your voice; one word--just a word will do--to end this nightmare!" Well, I forgot the rest of the song. Near the end, it says, "I know that the night must end, and that the sun will rise!" It's true, it really is. "Before the sun can rise, there must first be darkness," to quote myself. Has anyone else but me ever noticed I don't ever take my own medicine? Well, last night I didn't think the sun would ever rise. But then the moon rose and whispered words of comfort, of encouragement to me, lulled me to sleep. And you know what happened when I next awoke? The sun was just peaking over the hills. I looked out my window, saw that, and went back to sleep, and my sleep was troubled by nightmares no more. Grateful, I am, to the moon for being there when I'd blinded myself, to the stars for shining on in their brilliance to alleviate the Endless Night, and to the sun for rising just as promised to shed light on the new day. Forever grateful.
2003/01/07 Forever Grateful
Sometimes I feel I don't show my gratitude enough. I try, I really do, but too often I pass things off as almost a given, as if the person in question must somehow be able to psychically divine my gratitude. Take my sister, for instance. She is more capable of divining my feelings than anyone, often completing my cycles of thought before I do. But how often do I really ever say "thank you"? Not often enough, certainly. I just sort of take it for granted that she knows when I have no idea if she actually does. So I guess I'll take now to say thank you. Thank you Taz, for everything. Words can never be enough to express it, but thank you.
There is a scene in my mind right now that took place a day or two ago. In it my sister and I shared in a very embarrassing moment, one which involved a change on confidences that neither of us would probably ever be able to confide in anyone else. And afterwards, neither one of us loved the other any less, or felt about the other any differently. It was just a close moment of shared understanding, the kind that overcomes and surpasses embarrassment and fear and regret and sorrow. There was nothing but the joy of our intermingled thoughts, the completeness of dropped barriers we didn't even know were there. I would say it's a moment I'll never forget, but life is big and full of twists and turns, and my poor brain has no hope of even beginning to capture or encompass it. We've shared moments like this before, many times, my sister and I, but I honestly don't remember any of them very well, and most not at all. Moments with just as much depth of feeling as this one. Some with more. No, I'll be grateful for today and enjoy the moment; let tomorrow worry about itself.
Taz isn't the only one I've been shirking on/to/with. There are so many other people in my life, some with names, some without, to whom I owe my eternal gratitude. They've been there for me when I needed someone to hold on to, they've trusted me when I didn't trust myself, they've loved me when I thought no one could. And I love them, each and every one. Thank you. All of you. I owe you my eternal thanks at the very least. I'm sorry I don't show it more, but I really, really am grateful, forever grateful.
Last night, I wrote a diary entry that included the song "Endless Night". It really fit my mood. To quote some of the words, "Where has the starlight gone, oh Endless Night?" and, "I'm trying to hold on, just waiting to hear your voice; one word--just a word will do--to end this nightmare!" Well, I forgot the rest of the song. Near the end, it says, "I know that the night must end, and that the sun will rise!" It's true, it really is. "Before the sun can rise, there must first be darkness," to quote myself. Has anyone else but me ever noticed I don't ever take my own medicine? Well, last night I didn't think the sun would ever rise. But then the moon rose and whispered words of comfort, of encouragement to me, lulled me to sleep. And you know what happened when I next awoke? The sun was just peaking over the hills. I looked out my window, saw that, and went back to sleep, and my sleep was troubled by nightmares no more. Grateful, I am, to the moon for being there when I'd blinded myself, to the stars for shining on in their brilliance to alleviate the Endless Night, and to the sun for rising just as promised to shed light on the new day. Forever grateful.