Bruce Whealton: Existential Writing

So, here it was the Azalea Festival and it seemed that Lynn was not interested and had no time or interest in me. I would find out later that I was wrong. What I do remember was that at this time, while the idea of loving a person was alien… and all I had know was death – as if that was a desire… it seemed that I was confused. I had dated after Celta died but always wondered “why?” I certainly wasn’t overly moved by whether or not things worked out.

Part of my mind, wanted to just escape. I’d hang out with my roommate. Her name was Donna Bender and she had taken me down town – I admit it, I was thinking of the alcohol. This was 92 but for most of 91 all I knew was the dream-like reality of death.

In some respects that might seem like an exaggeration. I had held down a job for 6 months that certainly made me look responsible. But I certainly had no hope or happiness in anything. In the early months of 91, I wanted to be under the influence so that the ideas of ending this life, taking action, wouldn’t be so hard to carry out. It would be years before the love of Celta would seem like a comfort, many, many years. So, I was a Christian and so suicide didn’t seem so easy an option. The year 91 flowed into 92 like a river of numbness.

So, what had saved my life? and why? Why did I care about a relationship? This might seem bizarre but that’s what was going through my mind. I had no idea what was to follow?
What should I do now? Curse this experience? Curse the loss? Or try to figure out how or why I could love more than I loved Celta? Heck it took me to the end of the first decade of the 21st century to realize this reality?! Some 20 years after her death – honest to God, I would have never admitted to this fact until just recently.

What does this matter? What sense does it make to talk to my mother and have to admit that there never was the love between us ever… that I never would believe that she had the capacity to love us, though her parents did? Why couldn’t they love us? It says in the Bible that this is the kind of thing that is natural between a parent and his/her offspring. It doesn’t change that love is what I’ve known, from persons from God, and given back. I wonder if it is raining as I write this? It feels like it should be.