My Last Journey

As the sun went down on this cold winter night, I felt an overwhelming sadness but that's the name of the game with me, isn't it?

It goes with the territory.

I'm not a passionate person.

I'm not a romantic person.

I'm not a sentimental person.

I'm an emotional person.

I wanted to write this post before this day, January 21, 2016, ended, because 50 years ago today, I started out on a journey I should never have taken, but I did. 

I got married here in Owingsville, a gay man marrying a straight woman. Against all odds, it happened, but it never should have = not because I was gay, but because I knew from a long time ago, that I was not meant to spend any part of my life with another person. I didn't want that responsibility of making another person happy, of making another person sad, answering questions all the time and trying to explain to people what was going on with my life.

But I did.

If I had walked away and stayed where I was in Lexington, I would never have been on this 50-year journey, never would have taken the many roads that led to where I am today.

I would have "missed the dance", as they say.

Was it worth it?

Today, I live in a trailer beside a narrow country road, having finally adjusted to living in a place where you are always walking in a straight line, never from room to room, but in a complete straight line, from one end of the trailer to the other.

That seems to be the story of my life = finding my way from Point A to Point B, trying to find the easiest route, but never quite succeeding.

I'm not going to re-hash what people already know about me. I'm going to talk about what it feels like to get old and be on the last journey of my life, because I know what that feels like. No one knows when their life's journey is going to end, they can't stop it from happening, they can't change the outcome.

I look back on my life, but I know I can't change anything about it. I've lived it, it's over, but it lingers, in your memory, buried somewhere in the back in your mind that comes out in your thoughts, your dreams, your imagination of "what ifs".

I really don't want another person to intrude on my life now, don't want anyone to disrupt what little peace I've created, don't want anyone to interrupt this last journey.

My ex-wife took me on as a project, not as a husband, a project to change me, change me to make me what she wanted me to be. I was not strong enough to stay single and I was not strong enough to stand up to her strength. The day I did, when I stood up to her and told her what I really thought, what she had done to me, what she had put me through, is when our relationship finally came to an end, 21 years after our divorce. She had tried unsuccessfully over those 21 years to pull me back into her orbit so she could change me, she wasn't through with me, but I was through with her.

And for six years, I have been completely free of her, free to become myself, free to fight my way through every day of my life without her help.

The end of my journey will come when God says it's time for me to come Home. The end of my journey will come when I'm alone, because I was born alone and I will die alone, we all do.

A lot of times my journey is rough, it's the cards I've been dealt.

My nine babies = Boo, Darby Doodle, Toot, Emma, Pete, Penny, Linus, Lucy Belle and Charlie Brown = will accompany me on this journey. I know that one day they will all be gone and I know one day I will be gone. The trailer will sit empty beside the narrow country road, the shade tree over the porch will still bloom in the spring, shading the little screened-in porch where my babies have spent most of their days You will be able to see where they made their marks, sharpening their claws on some of the boards, you will be able to see the holes in the screen they have climbed upon, you will be able to see the posts on the porch where they climbed to the ceiling, proud of themselves. The trailer itself will echo their playful runs as they chase each other from one end to the other, jumping on the furniture, chairs, tables, countertops, on top of the refrigerator and their little beds will smell like them, where they lie tonight, safe and warm from the bitter winter chill, except Emma. My beautiful Emma, who keeps watch over me while I'm on the computer, she is here with me tonight, silently at her post, she watches me, to be near me, to go with me to the living room when I turn the computer and the overhead light off.

Toot sat on the porch the other day and just took in the snow, watching it fall, so did Darby Doodle. I got a picture of Toot gazing through the screen.

Lucy Belle sitting on the back of the couch, taking everything in.

Charlie Brown and Linus sharing one of the beds.

These moments will not be forgotten, even after they are gone.

These pictures here and others I have taken will be displayed at my memorial service, where people who want to pay their respects to my memory, will gather. My spirit will undoubtedly be present also.

Was the 50-year journey worth it? Yes, because it led me here, doing what I need to do = surviving day-by-day to take care of my babies as best I can. They have brought me joy and happiness on a level I can't explain and their presence is a reminder of the journey that brought me here, having saved them from a cruel environment so they could spend their lives in peace.

The peace I have found is scattered around, it's not here on a daily basis, but the moments I feel it, I know I made the right decision to be by myself. And the sex part of being gay was not something I ever wanted and when it happened and it was over, there was a feeling of emptiness that went straight to the core of my soul. I was not born to be a sexual person, but that also came with the territory = it is not a priority in my life anymore, hasn't been for a long, long time, because it was not something of pleasure, there was a lot of emotional pain, because I didn't really want it, but it happened.

I go on. I fight to survive. I struggle to get through the day. I fight my mental illnesses and my health problems, struggling to find peace at the end of the day. Sometimes I'm blessed with that peace, most times I'm not. It's scattered, like I said, but tonight, with a winter storm approaching, there is a storm in my head that won't let my life be easy, but it's my life and my journeys have brought me here, to the beginning of the end of my last journey.