man again.
“So how are Grace and the girls?” It was odd that he didn’t include Chris. He knew him so well and they were pretty close at one time. Of course, Wayne always had a way with kids. They gravitated to him and he always seemed to be surrounded by children who he somehow managed to enthrall with the simplest of things. One minute he would be talking to you and the next he would be off leading a bunch of them on a rock hunt or a bird-scouting adventure.
“Grace and the girls are doing fine. You know Grace; she always seems to keep all of us on an even keel.”
“You don’t look like a person on an even keel, my old friend.” Wayne was never one to waste time with a lot of small talk. He was only ever interested in talking about things that really mattered to him and he had a way of making them matter to you. “In fact, you look like hell.” I felt the tears coming. In the presence of this gentle man whom I hadn’t seen in years, I was about to cry. What the hell was wrong with me? I had controlled the feelings so well up to now, being strong and putting on a good show for everyone.
“You still don’t mince words, do you?” After a long pause and from somewhere deep inside me, I added, “I am in hell.”
“I know,” he said simply and with great kindness. We both just stood there. I was frozen in this sudden surge of grief and Wayne waited for me. “Sit down, brother,” he finally said. “We’ll have some coffee and talk, just like old times.” With those oddly comforting words, we both sat. “Tell me about your hell and we’ll see if there’s a way out.” So we ordered coffee and we talked.
“Gentlemen, I’m sorry but we are closing and as much as I hate kicking you both out, my husband would like to see me before he goes to work in the morning.” Those words broke the spell, a spell that had lasted for nearly six hours. At that precise moment, I realized that I had, for however brief a time, felt whole again.
“Well old buddy, this is my treat in more ways than one,” I said as I handed the waitress a twenty and told her to keep the change. As we walked together to the parking lot we were both silent, as if savoring something very profound. “I’ll call you,” was all I said as Wayne got into that same old beat-up, blue pickup truck. He just smiled and nodded as if he knew that I would.
Oh sweet joy, light in my darkness
A warm heart welcomes me back
Distracted from anguish for a moment
Not so alone now
The hope light shining brighter
Basking in the past with beloved friend
Sheltered so slightly
From present’s steely dagger
My Father’s presence offered
Through old blue truck diplomat
Finally presenting simple love
Adversary to hate and desolation
Soothing my soul in parity
With hope lost and forgotten
Wayne’s Secret
I never called Wayne again. I didn’t need to. A few days after our last meeting, without any prior arrangement, I simply walked back into the Gemini and there he was again, at the same table, watching me walk in as if he fully expected me to be there at precisely that point in time. “You’re a little late but that’s okay. I just asked Carla to bring us some fresh coffee. Sit down my friend and let’s help you find your way home.” Wayne is such a complex but yet simple man, right to the heart of the matter before the first cup of coffee had been delivered.
So again we talked. Our first meeting had been all about what I was feeling and where my head was at; an outpouring of controlled grief, followed by an attempted synthesis of feelings and thoughts. How I felt and what I thought about how I felt seemed to be what was prompted to emerge. But now we talked about healing. Wayne had helped me through a rough patch a few years ago and the same words he used then that helped so much again surfaced in conversation.
“Lean into the pain, Michael. You know what lies on the other side of it. It’s the same. It’s just a lot more pain this time.” At that moment, I suddenly realized how afraid of that pain I truly was. He was right of course, but I didn’t know if I could survive this one, even with his help.
“I don’t know buddy. I don’t know if I can do it. I may die in the process.”
“You know, I might agree with that except for one thing. The one thing is that, as you and I both know, there is no death. I know it consciously and you know it in your heart. The problem is that your heart is shut down right now and you’re afraid to go there.”
I had no idea what the hell he was talking about but I trusted him and his wisdom. “Tell me what I should do dear friend. I’m lost and all I can see is shadows,” I uttered in a weak and defeated tone.
“I can’t help you,” he said simply. In that moment, I lost what hope I had managed to summon and I wanted to fade into oblivion. Our time together had given me a glimmer of optimism and the promise of some sliver of happiness returning to my dark and battered soul. “I can’t help you. But I know someone who can,” I heard from the dark abyss I had so quickly started to sink back into. Those last few words brought me back and I looked at Wayne and he was smiling again; that same caring, knowing, impish grin.
“Don’t ever do that to me again or I will kick your old, grey-haired ass,” I responded. We both laughed out loud in a mixture of pain, hope, and friendship. We laughed so loud that everyone seated near us stopped what they were doing and smiled along. Damn, it felt good. It had been so long since I really felt like laughing.
“I know a very special man. You may not know this, but I’m not a carpenter anymore. I’m a therapist. I do individual counseling and I run a men’s group on Tuesday nights. I still teach meditation which, by the way, you could probably use.”
“So, if that’s the case, why are you recommending me to someone else?” I said, even more confused by the sharp turn of events.
“Because he can help you and what you need is beyond my skills,” he replied. “This man is responsible for changing my life and he inspired me to become a therapist.”
My first thought was oh yeah, another therapist with his walls filled with diplomas and certifications, declaring to the world how wise and caring he is. “But you’re the best therapist I know and I didn’t even know you were one,” I countered. Wayne paused, and then looked up at me with compassion like I have rarely seen one human being have for another.
“My dear friend and brother, I care about you enough to not be your therapist. I care about you enough that I could never live with myself if I tried and failed. Solomon will not fail you. I trust him even more than you trust me. If you give him a chance, he will help you recover your lost soul. He will show you the way home.”
I was still dazed by Wayne’s unwillingness to come to my aid. Our talks had given me hope again and now he was blowing me off. But I did trust him and I knew that he was truly a good man. If it had been anyone else I would have ignored him and went my own way, no matter how doomed it was. “I’ll try it,” I finally replied. Wayne smiled, a look of relief and completion taking over his
