Acceptance
What I have now, as my life, is a bonus, he said. His mission is over, according to him. That mission is to rear his children, get them through school, have them ready for lives of their own. Not that he lived his ideally. He had numerous relationships, he has so many drinking buddies, many acquaintances, and only a few he considers true friends. His passions are booze and women, in that order. He was raised by parents who lived simply, grew up in a household where the value of respecting one another was held most important. He enjoyed his life, he says, from his childhood days to his adulthood, because what is there to do with life, if not that? He tread the path of uncertainty in what the future holds for him, what matters is that his children are all right.
He is quiet, but he gets on a roll when he gets interested in a conversation. Especially with beer in hand. He rarely gives in to anger, veers away from arguments, but when he does, his words cut deep. His words are his weapons, he is never physically abusive, yet he is able to shatter your world by his words. He is protective and caring, he shows you that, instead of blabbing about how he feels. He is uncomfortable with deep conversations, when he has to vow or commit to something, to share his thoughts and when he cannot disguise his vulnerability.
Yet I know there is something in him that is weak and vulnerable, I just cannot quite put it in the simplest form. He loves, yet he holds back. He commits, yet he does not tell you in words. He worries about his children, get irked by their uncaring attitude towards his attempts to be a father to them, given the atypical circumstances with their mothers, but when he is with them, you can see how his stern face soften. He is very good at holding back profound joy and pride for his children, even if I know too well that the times he is with them is his happiest. I have heard from him stories about his children: his disappointments, his fears, his happiness over things they do. He does not show them, or tell them.
I worry about him all the time. He is not in the pink of health and his work demands much from him. There were times when he got sick, I had to check on him and his fever round the clock, and fall asleep by the foot of the bed. I see him at his weakest when he is sick, and his arrogant demeanor, his "i-don't-need-anyone" look on his face, they all melt away.
Just the other night, while he was perhaps contemplating his 'now', he told me that life is all about acceptance. He is ready to go now, should God want him, as his mission is done. He has accepted what his life is, and will be , should he be given more years to walk the earth. I would go out on a limb here and assume that he going through the motions of what there is that's left to do in his life. Not that it is what he wants, but because it is what is to be done. For himself. For his self-respect. Even that, I feel strongly that he lives his life, still wanting. Yet he tells me we need to be accepting of what is given.
I cannot imagine myself doing something not of passion for or desire for one thing. I cannot go through the motions of everyday life without a purpose, without meaning other than survival. I cannot just be accepting of what is given. I am discerning instead, and choose to live with what I have peppered with all the drama; fighting for what I think is right, for the love I deserve, for those I hold true in my heart. I will not simply 'accept' for purposes on convenience, even if it looks from the outside looking in, as that. I have taken quite a long while to drop all things heavy, stop carrying them, unload them from my heart, but that is not accepting. It is the choice I make after discenment, to take one step at a time until I get there, wherever that is.
Acceptance. Resignation. Not for me. That is perhaps why I struggle each day, with the demons there are within me. But I choose to struggle, if only to find meaning in this life. I will not choose peace and quiet over that. I will wait, until he finds it more important to fight for me, as I, too, gather the strength to fight for him.
He is quiet, but he gets on a roll when he gets interested in a conversation. Especially with beer in hand. He rarely gives in to anger, veers away from arguments, but when he does, his words cut deep. His words are his weapons, he is never physically abusive, yet he is able to shatter your world by his words. He is protective and caring, he shows you that, instead of blabbing about how he feels. He is uncomfortable with deep conversations, when he has to vow or commit to something, to share his thoughts and when he cannot disguise his vulnerability.
Yet I know there is something in him that is weak and vulnerable, I just cannot quite put it in the simplest form. He loves, yet he holds back. He commits, yet he does not tell you in words. He worries about his children, get irked by their uncaring attitude towards his attempts to be a father to them, given the atypical circumstances with their mothers, but when he is with them, you can see how his stern face soften. He is very good at holding back profound joy and pride for his children, even if I know too well that the times he is with them is his happiest. I have heard from him stories about his children: his disappointments, his fears, his happiness over things they do. He does not show them, or tell them.
I worry about him all the time. He is not in the pink of health and his work demands much from him. There were times when he got sick, I had to check on him and his fever round the clock, and fall asleep by the foot of the bed. I see him at his weakest when he is sick, and his arrogant demeanor, his "i-don't-need-anyone" look on his face, they all melt away.
Just the other night, while he was perhaps contemplating his 'now', he told me that life is all about acceptance. He is ready to go now, should God want him, as his mission is done. He has accepted what his life is, and will be , should he be given more years to walk the earth. I would go out on a limb here and assume that he going through the motions of what there is that's left to do in his life. Not that it is what he wants, but because it is what is to be done. For himself. For his self-respect. Even that, I feel strongly that he lives his life, still wanting. Yet he tells me we need to be accepting of what is given.
I cannot imagine myself doing something not of passion for or desire for one thing. I cannot go through the motions of everyday life without a purpose, without meaning other than survival. I cannot just be accepting of what is given. I am discerning instead, and choose to live with what I have peppered with all the drama; fighting for what I think is right, for the love I deserve, for those I hold true in my heart. I will not simply 'accept' for purposes on convenience, even if it looks from the outside looking in, as that. I have taken quite a long while to drop all things heavy, stop carrying them, unload them from my heart, but that is not accepting. It is the choice I make after discenment, to take one step at a time until I get there, wherever that is.
Acceptance. Resignation. Not for me. That is perhaps why I struggle each day, with the demons there are within me. But I choose to struggle, if only to find meaning in this life. I will not choose peace and quiet over that. I will wait, until he finds it more important to fight for me, as I, too, gather the strength to fight for him.
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