There are
lots of things people wish they could do over. What if we could? What if we
could make things different, as if we had some great power to warp reality? What
if we could manifest how we want things to be rather than the way they are? Our
lives are filled with the most disturbing events. There is a life of guilt and agony
and misery that haunts us even when we are okay. I am sure we all would change
things, to one degree or another. Life is set in stone. We don’t get to change
the course we have followed but we would if we could. Given half the chance, I
believe we would all start over without a doubt or regret. Every one of us
dreams about being given the opportunity to right our wrongs, to fix the past
and all the mistakes that go with it. This is why we turn to religion and all
its promises. What then? Will our “new life” be any better than the one we
abandoned? You need to be careful what you wish for. There is no guarantee that
your new world won’t be more chaotic, more savage than the one you left behind.
You should never assume what tomorrow may bring. Still, in my mind I play this
game, of sorts. I entertain the different worlds I would wholeheartedly go to
if allowed. You might think hopscotching through the past would cleanse us but
we are bound to our lessons whether we change our circumstances or not. No
matter how you run, you cannot hide. The things you are supposed to learn will
follow you wherever you go. Until you embrace them, you are bound to repeat
them, no matter where you might wander off to. For me, that is the meaning of
life: to learn. I am bound to ascertain, whether I want to or not. Asking
yourself “what if?” might show you a different space but you’ll end up in
exactly the same place (if you fail to pay attention). You keep what you sow.
In the end, what occurs in Otherland, stays in Otherland.
Two days
before my mother died of a massive heart attack, I ventured home for a visit. I
had been at a medical appointment in the neighbouring city so it was nothing
but a skip and a jump to get to my folks’ place. I almost didn’t go. Things
were not good when I got there. My Mom’s depression, resulting from her
physical health, had been a roaring beast for many years. She was often
overwhelmed by her own misery. She had been here before and so had the rest of
us. This day, my mother was despondent and asked me to move home. There was no
real rhythm or reason to her request but I believe she thought it would help
things for her. I think she felt isolated by mere circumstances and just wanted
an ally in her own mind. I told her no. I have always felt guilty about that
decision. Maybe if I had said yes, she would have lasted longer than she did. I
have to wonder “what if?” As I left her standing at the front door, she waved
goodbye, a final image in my mind. This was literal.
When I got
to the house, things were rather anxious. My Mom was pensive, sorrowful and
appeared like a deeply wounded creature. You could feel the sadness flowing from her in the most disturbing way. I
think she knew. She seemed defeated. When she asked me to move home, when she
begged me to, at first I wanted to say no. Instead, we came to an arrangement
that I would come home for a few weeks to help her out but I would not move
back as a permanent solution. She waved goodbye just the same as she always
did. Although my partner was not pleased with this arrangement, it mattered
little in the short term. Two days later, she sat up in bed and dropped to the
floor, as dead as you can be. It didn’t matter that her course had shifted.
Fate will not be fucked with. You might wish things could be different but it
matters little in the greater scheme of things. What will be will be, even if
you twist it into something else altogether.
There is nothing to venture, we can only manipulate, not change
our course.
Every day
of my life I think of him. He died in the most nasty way I could imagine, at
least at the time. He walked out the door into the harsh winter night and he
landed face up. I remember the last interactions I had with him like they are a
familiar song. They play over and over again. The night before I deserted him, I
could see him sitting on the couch down the hall. As I lay in bed, he must have
been planning to be dead. Just before I headed to Toronto
I decided
just not to go. He seemed so distant the night before. He was so sad and
appeared quite defeated. I could not just abandon him. Work didn’t matter, he
did. I called in with one excuse after another and then crawled back into bed
with him. The weekend was pretty much the same as the one before. I wasn’t sure
why his world seemed to be falling apart but, for a brief moment, having stayed
with him seemed to carry him through. I could not have been more wrong.
Apparently, it was inevitable. Two weeks later and I headed to Toronto
It only
lasted for about a year but the toll it took has been long lasting. With very
little time having passed since Doug’s death, I went with Andrew because I was
lonely. I could have done better but I settled out of desperation. This would
end up being a costly mistake. I tried, month after month, to carry on and
start a new life with him. I was just fooling myself. Eventually, the fighting
and the screaming made it impossible for us to be even friends, let alone live
together. A little later, I abandoned the entire thing altogether. I thought,
as an adult, I would have the opportunity to gather my belongings and move on
without him. I should have known that a nasty, chaotic relationship usually
means a nasty and chaotic parting. It got so bad that I was left no choice but
to scare him into leaving. I told him I had looked through his front window but
I only put the chair there to freak him out. It worked. Unfortunately, I never
saw any of my belongings ever again. In his basement sat 14 boxes of comic
books. My entire collection, every comic I had ever collected, sat victim to
the ways of a crazy man. I never saw a single issue again, not those originals
at any rate. When my lawyer inquired as to the status of my belongings, Andrew
lied and told the authorities I had already taken all my property. I was left
quite empty. I swore I would never purchase a comic book again. I also swore
that I would never again date a chubby, balding, little dicked motherfucker. I
was so angry and so humiliated that for years I could not even look at a comic let
alone start building a new collection. It was almost as if I was not meant to
have them.
It was over
and I knew it. I’m pretty sure he knew it too. There was little left between us
but that final goodbye. I waited for him to leave but he refused to. Over and
over again, I had to deal with his insanity while trying to rescue my own. I
came up with a stupid idea. I figured if he was scared of me, he would finally
lay this torture to rest. I went to move the white plastic chair under the
window to make it look like I was stalking him. Something told me not to.
Something moved me and I realized there would be consequences to this action. I
changed my mind. Instead, I walked to the front door and knocked. I removed my
comics to the safety of my car and I drove away. I never saw him again and for
over 20 years, he has stayed away. All that mattered was that I secured my
collection. It was time to move on. I met Ben during the fiasco. Eventually, we
moved in together. It was love that first night, I suppose. Still, I was
hesitant to bring all my property into the new living space, especially my
comic books. I left them in my parents’ basement, stacked on each other like in
that Jenga game. Fear settled quickly and I started a new life, a new direction
and many new additions. I kept collecting immediately after Andrew’s departure.
They were stored in a safe place, or so I believed. My family got out safely
but the fire consumed the entire structure. They called me and I arrived just
in time to watch the last embers float away into nothing. We were all devastated.
Insurance would help them recover but my comic books had not been covered by
the current policy. I was fucked just like that $50,000 worth of ink and paper.
It seemed, in the clearest manner, I was not supposed to have them.
It has
occurred to me that I may have been wrong about fate, kismet and serendipity. I’m
not sure but I may have been incorrect discounting them. I still don’t believe
that events are set at God’s “will,” but I am convinced the lessons we are
supposed to learn are not so ethereal. Life gives us everything we need. We
choose to reach for more than this mortal existence. We choose how we think and
how we feel. Yes, circumstance will often direct your position but in the
end, you only end up learning the lessons laid out before you. You really do
get what you pay for. You are what you eat. You cannot change anything unless
you learn that lesson. You cannot move forward
if you keep repeating the past. There are no “what ifs” in reality. You
can journey to an Otherland all you want, you can escape every day if need be.
It doesn’t matter, not really. The lesson stays the same even if there is a
different ending.
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