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Biography of a Common Man by Patrick Lundgren I can see the smoke haze lingering in the air, making odd shapes as the sunlight, (peeking through a crack in the curtain), hits it. It makes for a moment of distraction, drawing me only briefly out of my reverie. I am lost in thought. Not about writing this, nor what I am going to say, that is being done by me, yet not by me. It is as if someone else has come in to express these words, write them down on the computer, make sense out of them. My thoughts though are holding me hostage, until I tell the story that I have to tell.. Maybe this is will be the ransom to free me of their bonds? In my mind, I see the waning daylight of an Alaskan summer, with the royal purples, blood-red hues, and deep azure blues. I see this out of an open window as I lay back on my bed. I hear my voice expressing the wonder of it all, over the phone to my best friend, with whom I was in love. Alas though, the window is now but a shadow, and the conversation is a thing of the past: it is but a memory. This tranquil image belies the pain though that brought me to this point. It hides a troubled soul, who even then was in deep pain, though looking back however, it was a turning point. Sometimes the reopening of old wounds, that run deep, will bring forth memories that are as painful now as they were then. Looking for a time that defined my life was a process that did just that though. I found a place however, a place from which I was to move forward, and remake myself into someone I once was, a long time before. No, it was not some outstanding revelation which was to redefine my life, it was a shaping experience, and I am who I am based on these experiences. I was a "normal" soul. Of course, I had my quirks, of which I will not say here. That is, they are another story and of itself altogether. I was "happily" married, or so I thought, but little did I see of the storm brewing down the line for me. You know the ultimate family dream, a loving wife, two boys, a secure job, a dog and a cat. It was a lie, all of it! The kids were not paid enough attention to. No and neither was the wife! The job had demanding hours and a contract, which made it impossible for me to see my family sometimes. As far as job security, there is a reason the military is offered such cheap life insurance --think about it. I never was a dog person, and the cat hid in the basement. After eight years of marriage, while we were up in Alaska, it totally fell apart. She packed up the kids, departed, leaving me to pack up the sum of collected memories over the next three days: every little knick-knack on the bookshelves, every picture on the wall, every little thing that was a part of what I had come to be. As I packed up those memories, put them into neat little piles for the movers, or little boxes, I fell apart. Each piece removed was a part of my soul: I was literally packing up my soul! The movers came, the movers left, and then the house was empty. It was hearing the echoes of an empty house, which struck it home. There is something funny about echoes in an empty house. When you are just moving in, they are a promising sound, a sound of joy, of hope, of promises of memories yet to be made. On a dark and stormy night, they can be frightening: each little echo like something coming in to get you. When you are alone though, and they are the echoes of an empty house in which you have been left behind, they are a marker on your soul. A reflection on how empty the soul actually feels. For fourteen days, after the movers left, I sat alone. I had the computer, a TV, the coffeepot, and my recliner. (It was mine, and My! were there ever fights over that recliner! Who would get it? I think I finally won that one by pointing out it was a Father's Day present). I sat in my recliner, with the computer on, connected to the net. I was waiting for an email, for a message, for anything from my spouse. I did not fall asleep, for fear of missing that all-important message. To that end, I endlessly drank pot after pot of coffee. The TV was blaring CNN headline news 24 hours a day. This mindless box was the only human voice I heard. Like I said, I did not sleep, except when I passed out from exhaustion. One thing I have to say about the military, it gave me resources that I did not know I had. That may have been a bad thing though in this case! When I say I passed out from exhaustion, I mean it. The first time I passed out was after three days of constant vigilance at the computer, I passed out for an hour. The couple of other times were about the same. Finally, it came time that I had to leave my empty house, venture out into that big, bad world. I must have looked horrible, judging from the stares that I received, when I stepped into my workplace. I think that was the first time my friends, and others who knew me, really and truly realized how badly off I was. Every emotion had been lined into my face over the previous two weeks. I think that scared people, I honestly do! It scared them as to what I might do to them, or even myself. I think it mainly scared them because it is not common to see true emotions in people. I was then sent off to get the help that they thought I needed, whether or not I liked it, wanted it, or even needed it. It was there, in the hospital, that I came to the realization that I really did not need to be where I was. Personally, I think it was sitting there, for hours on end, watching the people engaging engaged in and engrossed deeply in conversation with inanimate objects, such as the chairs and walls, which kicked me into high gear. This experience rattled me, shook me even harder to the core of my being than even the previous two weeks had done. I made sure I departed that facility with all the speed I could muster, but in turn, I realized I was still alone though. Through the years, I had shunned everyone, wanting to be "the loner" that you always see in the movies. I am sure you know the type: totally self-reliant, never needing anyone, or anything. That is how I wanted to be and how I pictured myself. What a thin façade that was though! I sat in my room; I stared at the walls, but that was all about to change when I met someone who would again teach me what living was all about, and, for this, I love her and owe her the world. It never was a "relationship" per-say, and if she, or I, had ever tried to make it one, it would not have been destined to last. Kathy was the first one to actually try to pull me out of the shell that I had been in, for years. She sat and listened, as I bared my soul, and that is what I needed most. She opened, in me, the ability to describe not only my feelings, and emotions, but also the world around me, as I saw it. She did more than this though: what was a healing experience for me, turned out to be one for her, as well. Never before had she been able to open her soul and express her concerns, worries, or anything else. Never before, have I had someone open their soul to me, as much as she did. This was the life-changing experience, which returned me to the world of the living. I was taught that Life is about interaction: about the way that the world around you affects you and how you in turn affect it. For years, I had done nothing more than 'see' the world. I did not observe, pay attention, or assimilate what I saw but mainly took it all for granted. Thinking back to that open window in Alaska, I wonder if I should I be thinking about the pain that brought me to that point? Should I instead be thinking about the person that I had become: closer to being whole and complete, and the happiness that it brings? We still have our conversations, she and I. We e-mail on a regular basis, discussing life. Once in a great while we will talk over the phone, and I will tell her about how green the trees are here, and she will tell me back about the heat in Texas. The sun has almost gone down now, and I now have the curtains open, to let in the last of the waning summer light. Still, even for the feeble efforts of the setting sun, the room is mostly dark, except for the light of the computer's monitor, in front of me. Symbolic in many ways I think; sort of like that point in my life, and the future, as it lies before me. I am now in college, making a new start. I seem to be making friends, reaching out, making contact. I will never be alone again. As for Kathy, we have gone our separate ways. For some strange reason though, I have never felt closer to anyone in my life. Sitting here with a glass of wine, I am haunted by one last thought. I was so confident in my life, so sure I had the answers, and everything was perfect. I just wonder, as I walk the paths on this campus, how many others will have a story such as mine? The End
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