Posts tagged ‘Death’

The Tin (Wo)Man ~ James Franklin Pyles

Tuesday, February 21st, 2012

James Franklin PylesThere are no what if’s. I believe in other worlds and parallel universes. In some other time and space, my story with James continues. The end of the summer of 2002 did not led to our dimiss due to my immaturity. In this alternate world, we stayed together. Through undergrad, through grad and through his PhD program in philosophy and/or theology. In this other world, today would be our ten year anniversary. Tradition has it that this would be the year of “Tin.” (In other places, it could also be aluminum and/or diamonds.)

In this other world, its important to know that James remained a constant. It was apparent to me that the connection we shared was extremely powerful. At times this scared me.  James was the first person I had ever shown the entirety of my being too. There were aspects of myself that I hadn’t even dared to really deal with and yet I shared them with him. I expected judgement. I expected hurt and pain. Yet every time I showed him more and more of myself, my true, gritty, horrible, dismissive nature, he kept accepting me. He kept holding on to me. I don’t understand where this strength or love came from.

That is IT! I do not understand how he cared for me, especially who I was then. I gave him no reason to love me and every time I tried to walk away, he held me closer. He looked at me as if I were the most beautiful creation in the world. Honestly, it kills me sometimes to reread our letters. His devotion was unnerving especially when you compare it to my fear.

But I know, I know without a shadow of a doubt, that with time and maturity, I would have come to surrender fully in the love we had created. Imagining our shared connected 10 years later astounds me. I couldn’t tell you why the 10th year anniversary is associated with tin. I know a simple google search would led to the answer but for me, 10 years later on the anniversary of the intentional start of our relationship, although we had been connected long before that, I realize a huge part of our time together was about me learning to rediscover my heart in the safety of his presence.

Tin.  The Tin Man. HEART.

This is one of the stories of my heart.

You must understand, I had some concept of love. Before James, I devoutly loved my family. I had friends. I was committed to the “God” I served then. I had passions. I wasn’t a robot…for the most part.

Although one professor told me that I needed to learn to be a “human BEING” and not a “human DOING.” So maybe I was robotic in a sense. I kept piling things on in my life. Class after class. Activity after activity. Committment after committment. I filled every second of everyday with things to do or in preparation for the things to do because I was afraid of being alone with myself.

I knew if I took a moment to breathe, look myself in the mirror and say my thoughts out loud, there would be no going back. Eventually James taught me to do this. He taught me to be present which requires heart. With him, I learned to use my heart more. He taught me to say my thoughts out loud. I was so used to censoring myself. The cult I was raised in wanted me to be quiet. My family wanted me to know my place. In highschool I remember my articles being censored for the school paper..constantly. I always lied in therapy. I never spoke the authentic utterances of my mind. But James… he insisted on all my words.

When I started to speak them, I discovered feelings that I had never dealt with. I was ANGRY at god, at church, at men and so many other things and people. And being angry, in retrospect is better than not feeling at all. Angry means I’m alive and my heart works and my emotions need work and there is the possibility of growth. Angry means I’m still human. That was good to discover because I thought I was dying. I thought my humanity was ceasing to exist. I thought I was unworthy, dirty and unloveable. But when I discovered I had the capacity to speak on and deal with the TRUE emotions, often ugly, that lay beneath the surface, I realized, I had a heart after all.

And the realization is important. Because for someone who has dealt with years of depression and suicidal tendencies and attempts, remembering you’re human, remembering you have emotions and feelings, remembering you are tender to the touch, remembering to breathe and be present, helps you remember there is something there. And even if you can’t put your finger on what that something is, the fact that its there can be the difference between life and death, LITERALLY.

I learned to used my heart with James. I learned to explore it. Navigate with it. Show it. My heart expanded and sometimes contracted. Sometimes it beat faster or slower. I learned all the motions of this tender muscle because he insisted and he saw things I could not see. James was so gracious to me. He was caring. He led his letters with “Darling” and ended them with, ‘Yours Truly.” And he meant each of those words. And during the times when my heart was weak and frightened and scared or angry, dark, dank and hurtful, he simply held me while saying “Darling.”

Not only did I learn to deal with the many facets of my anger, which were rooted in my past victimization of childhood sexual abuse, but I started dealing with the abuse and began the process of healing. Again, this required a major usage of my heart. It was painful. But it was a healing pain and James was there every step of the way. Through him and his wisdom, I begin to deal with my relationships with family and my fears in my relationship with him. I forgot, until I reread our letters, that I even shared with him one of my shameful secrets. I have yet to share that story with most people, although I no longer consider it shameful. I had been carrying the weight of one of my “sins” for so long and it was dragging me down. It pressed against everything I did, tainting it with its darkness and somehow with James, I felt free and open and loved enough to share it with him and work my way through that too. The capacity of openness within our relationship and his willingness to care for every part of my being is amazing. I don’t even know if I have enough heart for that but he did. And the more he used his heart on me, the more I learned to use my heart too. I learned to live and be alive with James.

Happy 10 Year Anniversary. Some where in some other place, you are loving me and I am loving you and I am thanking you for the gift you gave me. You helped me use my heart and you taught me to love. You are an incredible man. I hope you knew that everyday.

 

JAMES FRANKLIN PYLES

December 13, 1982 to June 24, 2004

More Musings on James

Vintage James F. Pyles – Feb 18 2008

Your Kisses Color My Soul

Deciding to Heal: A Quote and a Trepid step towards Rage

Franklin and LaShay ~ James Franklin Pyles

Magical Eyes Gave Me Permission to Love Me

Straight Through to Mexico

You Are Always

Happy Birthday

Happy 28th Birthday

Suffocation

Happy Birthday James Franklin Pyles

Tuesday, December 13th, 2011

Lola asked me what I missed the most. I said your curly hair and cheap cologne amongst many other things. The sound of your voice, the softness of your hands and that blue sweater. I really wish that blue sweater were mine. But maybe its a lesson in learning that nothing is mine. I don’t own anything. Life doesn’t work like that. You were not mine to own, neither were your possessions. You were a part of my life. A major highlight. You enhanced it, possessed it and made it wonderful. But they were moments and the most we can do is be present during the moments. Its impossible to hold the moments. You can only experience them. Breathe through them. So I understand that even though I miss that blue sweater with the lingering scent of you, it is not mine to own.

It is your birthday again. It keeps happening. It keeps halting me. Affecting me. Altering me. I can’t own people and I can’t own time. I can’t stop it. I’m suppose to be positive. It’s your birthday.

James, thank you for everything you were and are to me. Thank you for changing the trajectory of my life. Thank you for helping me find my voice. Thank you for helping bring my tears to surface. You saw the danger in my suppression and you gave me a safe place to surface. Thank you James. From every ounce of my heart, from every bit of my being…thank you for helping me surface.

Thank you for showing me things. For exposing me to Woody Allen and U2. For teaching me the basics of relationships and friendships. Thank you for showing me vulnerability and for that one time when you apologized about being mean to that girl in my presence. I didn’t particular care because I didn’t like her either but later you realize just how cruel you were and you made it a point to not only apologize to her but you apologized to me for stepping outside your character.

James, thank you for all of those late night talks until 6AM. We talked about everything. We made fun of the couples coming back from their awkward dates. We video taped our silly pranks and laughed at all those inside jokes. We made fun of Lola’s white shoes. Thank you for all of those beautiful moments.

I am devasted by your death. For awhile I literally lost my mind and my way. Even still, I’m working through healing all this grief. But no matter, the pain…. it is worth it. It is truly worth it. I would rather this pain than to not have known you.

I always think those people are so FUCKING CLICHE who say, “Its better to love and lost than to never have loved at all.” James, I think they are crazy some times. I try not to judge them but they seem silly. BUT, they speak truth. I am so sad to have lost you but I have the memories. I know the moments that happened. I know how I changed, how I became better and more of myself because of you. And I would rather have all of that and learn to manage this pain than to have never  experienced you.

Happy Birthday James.

Thank you for changing my life.

Thank you for everything you were and are.

 

Happy Birthday Grandma

Sunday, October 2nd, 2011

VEOLA PARKER
September 22, 1925 to August 9, 2009

I hail from a lineage that surpassed my understanding of time.

My roots are nameless.

I can’t chant your African songs.

I only know the southern cries for freedom and liberation.

My grandmother’s birthday passed by recently. I always find it difficult to write about her. Processing grief in any way is a challenge but I have found it possible to at least put words to my heartache as it relates to James and Maura. But somehow, with my grandma I feel so tender inside. I feel so childlike. And even though its not possible, I just want her tea cakes again.

Happy Birthday Grandma. I hope that in every thing that I do, you’d be proud of me. I liked when you smiled at me. It made me feel so good. I also liked that along with watching Matlock, you’d watch Jerry Springer too. It helps me to know that I can read a book on Buddhism and be the same person who reads The Good Girl’s Guide to Bad Girl Sex. It shows me I can be wise and raunchy. I like that you made homemade pound cake but that you also chewed tobacco. I mean, its not good for you but it just shows me that I can live in all my facets. That I can be complex, contradictory and pretty much just do what I damn well pleased. I liked those things about you. They help me to like those qualities in myself too. I also liked that you would rather women made their own clothes but you wouldn’t go outside without your Patti LaBelle perfume. Or I like that you grew your own veggies for many years but then you did all your cooking with lard. I like those various bits.

Thank you grandma.

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