Today is Danny's 31st birthday. Altho we have known one another for years, and became close friends, we officially became inseparable in early May 0f 2009. I was at his house every chance I could get, and then he started coming to my house as well for days at a time, and eventually moved in. I remember spending his 28th birthday with him that first year. I gave him some silly card about friendship that day, because I felt like I had found some sort of soul-mate in him. I just loved being with him so very much, because of the deep and interesting conversations we had, the crazy silly antics we enjoyed, and the insight he always seemed to have about things. We both knew our age difference was a tad odd, but we were just friends, so who cared? lol. Yet our self-proclaimed "just friendship" was obviously more than that...we were always from day one, able to share our most private thoughts and feelings, and without embarrassment or shame. And getting to his place in the mornings after leaving my night shift job just so I could fall asleep in the crook of his shoulder with my ear over his heart, was a sinful delight I could never get enough of. Yes, of course there was some lust involved for both of us...maybe a fair amount of infatuation initially. We openly discussed the risks of becoming involved in that way...but it just became so natural. We told each other as well as ourselves that it was just another facet of our very unique friendship. Ha!
As time went on, well...they say you don't know a man til you live with him. How true. And Danny had a personality that could test Mother Teresa's patience. For as amazing and lovable as he could be, he could be equally sarcastic and awful. But I suppose it was too late, for I was falling hopelessly in love. Withstanding the test of time, I grew to love and understand all the sides of him. He made a definite footprint on my life, on my little boy's life...on our hearts. Through personality struggles and challenges, he sought help with bipolar and OCD difficulties, and we traveled a rocky road together. His life was no less perfect than my own. We grew better together. Apart for a short while and then back together, he celebrated another birthday. Then the Dec. 2010 car accident...
As I spent hours, days and weeks at his side through a fight for his life and traumatic brain injury, I began to realize what our love really meant. I could not have been any more devoted to him than I was. For a couple weeks we didn't know if he would ever return to a normal physical capacity. I was prepared to bring him home no matter what his condition, and care for him no matter what it would take...whether he couldn't walk or talk...it didn't matter to me. Danny had no one in his life anymore...he'd chased them all away and built huge walls to hide behind. But he didn't hide from me. He didn't put on an act or a facade...and it was part of why I loved him so. There were no walls between us.
He did make an excellent physical recovery. It was truly miraculous. We celebrated his 30th birthday thrilled with how well he was doing. Unfortunately, the cognitive portion of his recovery didn't progress well. The initial many months of total amnesia and wild beliefs and disbeliefs, improved only to be replaced with a severe decline in his previous mental health difficulties. I spent all my time and energy desperately trying to find help for him, and could sense an explosive situation forming. He finally became just too much for me to safely handle and the situation worsened, culminating in the need to have his immediate family take over his care. I didn't want things to go in the direction or to the extreme that they did, but I had to make a choice for myself and my family. I had to totally disengage.
As I look back on all of this, I find myself questioning my own sensibleness and rationality. Logic tells me that what has happened is in a total state of disrepair. I know with every intelligent bone in my body, that the relationship has evolved to a place where it will never be what it was. Yet there's this small voice inside me...inside my heart, that can not let go. My family, my friends, Danny's family...everyone has an opinion...ranging everywhere from understanding and support, to cold hateful statements. But that little voice...the one in my heart that says I can never completely let go...it's the voice of love. How do you quiet that voice? HOW??? How do you stop missing someone who is never really coming "back"...how do you mourn the death of someone you love, when in truth they are still very much alive?
Tonight, after not hearing Danny's voice for 2 months, he sent a voice mail saying "I miss you" My heart lept...and the tears flowed. I was however, quickly reminded of traumatic brain injury's effect on him...he continued texting me for over 3 hrs...a somewhat juxtaposed collection of random statements about this and that...and I tried to explain as best I could why we must continue on the separate paths we are on...for now anyway...maybe always. He doesn't really understand. But my happiness tonight is that I know he has his phone back in working order, and I was able to get my desperate message to him that my love will never die, and our friendship will remain like the rock it always was, and that I will forever be there for him. (How can it be wrong to tell someone you love them?) and I can wish him Happy Birthday :-)
