Ah, there you are!
Damn it all.
Well, that’s a funny way to greet a friend!
Friend? That’s a laugh. You know, I was having a perfectly nice day. No one invited you.
I know, but I felt like we needed to talk.
Yeah, well to be honest I’m sick of these surprise get togethers. We’ve been doing this for almost three years now and I was hoping we could be done already. I thought we were finished. I thought—
That’s not how this works.
Oh really? And tell me, how does this work?
I can’t leave—ever.
Hey, don’t stay on my account. Seriously, I’ll be totality fine. Be my guest!
You think I’m here to hurt you, but I’m trying to help.
I see. Showing up without warning in the middle of the afternoon and kicking the crap out of me, bringing me to a sobbing mess here in the middle of the park. Just how the hell does this help?
I reminding you.
Reminding me? Of what?
Of how much you loved your father. Of how well he loved you. Of the reasons you miss him so much. Of the way you felt when he was here with you. And I’m here to remind you that you’re alive.
Heartbeat? Check. Pulse? Check. I’m alive. I get it.
Without me coming around from time to time, you’ll forget just how fragile life is. You’ll forget how wonderful it is. You’ll start taking people and this place for granted. You’ll so easily become distracted and worried and you’ll miss the beauty all around you. I help you see it again.
But can’t you do it without so much… pain?
I wish I could, but the pain is necessary. This is the way your heart measures these things. This pain is the tax on loving and being loved. To take it away from you would be an insult to your father. It would deny all that you meant to one another. You see, we hurt to the degree that we cared and were cared for, and in this way pain is a memento. It’s an heirloom of memory.
But it hurts.
Trust me, that’s good. It’s a sign your heart is doing what it’s supposed to.
So this is just how things are going to be? You’re going to keep hounding me and interrupting me with tears and sobs for the duration? In the middle of whatever I’m doing, you’re just going to show up unannounced and barge in and screw up my plans?
Unfortunately. Sometimes I’ll have to chase you down and sometimes I’ll just be here waiting for you to show up. We won’t meet as often as we have before, but we’ll get together whenever I think you need it; whenever you need to see again, whenever I think you’re missing life.
This is bullshit.
Listen, I know it’s frustrating. I know it’s difficult. I know you didn’t plan on spending time with me today, but let me ask you something: Can you feel him?
Who?
Can you feel your father? In the tears and sobs and memories, does he feel near to you right now?
Well, yes but—
This is what I do. This is my purpose. I give you proximity to your father that no one else can. I get you as close to him as you will ever get here in this place. I clear out time and space for you to feel it all even when it’s not convenient; to let the flood come so that you won’t forget, so that you’ll feel like he’s right there, so that you will live the rest of the day differently. You will live it differently, won’t you?
Yes.
That’s why I showed up. You don’t need to understand or thank me. Just go and live well, and we’ll talk again soon.
So I hear.
