an apology

really, just across the board, ouch, for everyone all around me and my life. the 'carrying the dead' post was a barfing up of a bunch of stuff i hadn't truly processed all the way as yet, and it turns out that post was very much the equivalent of walking into a room with the lights out and swinging my fists in a circle without knowing if anyone was in there. needless to say, i think maybe i'll think things through more thoroughly before they hit here, and many things like that one may never see this space. i'm thinking i'll take that post down, but haven't completely made up my mind yet, as i want to see what i manage to get out today.

the biggest thing that seems to have come from that post is the notion that, as somewhat of a love letter to a dead girlfriend and my attachment to her memory, it somehow invalidates my entire marriage. nothing could be further from the truth, though even i wouldn't have realized how wrong that was until B said something to me about the way what i had written made her feel. when she told me what that post said about our marriage, i felt like i had been punched in the stomach. that i had blindly thrown that out there with no consideration for the implications, that i could have made her feel that way made me feel sick. and that made me realize that there are far more feelings going on inside me than i might have guessed. she also said that when i have written to her, my writing is filled with phrases like 'words can't express..' and 'i can't say...', and she's right. but it doesn't mean that there's nothing there to express, and that's a revelation i hadn't expected. i talked about being turned off and emotionless, and that's just not true. i may not know how to put it into words well, but it doesn't mean it's not there at all.

my time in colorado was a good one by my standards. i was freer-feeling, rebellious and artistic. i have always had a creative and impulsive bent, but have grown up in such a way as to feel like that isn't a valid way for an adult to behave. when i graduated from high school and my parents moved to colorado, they forced me to move with them. my best friend would be attending AC in sherman, i had a scholarship lined up there and was set to go, and the rug was puled out from under me. and i was pissed. we moved to denver, and i spent a lot of time being everything the wouldn't want me to be, hence rebellious and artistic. trick is, that was really me, and it felt like it. that creativity, that expression, was part of who i was all day every day, so when i look back on that time it is easy enough to put it into creative words. carolyn died, and for whatever reason i shut that side of me down.

i went to school for art, certainly, but my work was mostly derivative and unimaginative, when it wasn't it wasn't very good. i let the voice in my head that suggested that creativity is no way to live take over, and i ended up a pretty nasty mess as a result. the biggest thing is that i don't have that part of my life viewed through a creative lens, but rather through one that thinks i was being responsible and keeping myself under control. foolish, yes, but true.

where i have gone wrong in my assessment is equating my lack of creativity and my lack of allowing myself to be who i am (partly because i'm not sure what that means, and partly because the things i do know about myself don't jive with being a husband and father according to the critical voice in my head) with a total lack of joy and emotion. i do not now believe this to be the case. i have not been fair to myself, and that has caused me to be unfair to those around me.

here is an attempt to paint a color picture of my wife and what she has brought to my life. please forgive me if it is awkward or stunted or otherwise falls short of what anyone might hope.

when we met she was difficult and shrewd at times, rigid and timid in her way, afraid of abandoning control and fearful of the world around her falling into chaos if she didn't hold everything, especially herself, tightly. she was damaged and hurt, a beautiful childlike and childish angel who could laugh or cry at the drop of a hat if she only let herself get away from her own reigns. and i have watched her change over 16 years into a magnificent and glorious example of compassion, calm and evenness, a shining symbol of what we can become if we only allow ourselves to hold onto what we can and abandon control of the rest to whatever forces create them.

she is still beautiful, maybe more so today than ever. certainly the years have been kind to her features, but there is now radiance from within that comes from a soul that knows where it lives. her eyes, always chameleons, still will turn from their gray to purple when she is in love, brightest blue when she is excited and joyful or that intense sea green when she cries, but these days that sea green is clearer and no longer covers up the pain underneath, letting it flow out with the tears and draining the pool of misery a little more each time to allow it to become shallower as she goes along. she understands her own inner landscape in a way that few ever achieve, a brilliant achievement born not only of hard work but of utter and complete talent for overcoming.

she can balance in ways that no one i know can, standing with one foot firmly in rationality and the other playfully toeing at threads in the creative world. she can analyze and figure, and in the next breath sit and paint randomly with the children. she is both the masculine and feminine in balance, the rational and the emotional, the yin and the yang together.

i called myself kali, but brandie is kali. she is the warrior goddess, pure of focus and steady of stare, able to dance and swing and move with such grace and beauty that the difficulties of life stand by awestruck and confused and in love while she cuts them down. she is strong and mindful, a whirling dervish of possibility and caring that can hold whole worlds together.

she is the single greatest friend i have ever had, unwavering and unquestioning, the one person i have been able to trust forever and maybe the only person i have ever let be a true friend to me.

i adore her, i respect her. and though i may not be able to say i loved her fiercely, that is only through my own inability to be fierce with my emotions. but i do love her, and from a deep and resonant place born of 16 years that belong only to us and a place that not many people could understand. i don't really understand that place, and so i have a hard time putting it into words. but let me try to put it this way:

she didn't know this until she read this, but in so very many ways, i wish i was her.