What Are the Odds?

You'd think I would have learned by now that the posts I worry the most about posting are the very posts that I most need to post. I spent some time this morning before I went to work reading through some of the emails I've received in response to last night's post, and I can't begin to express how deeply moved I am by your words or how truly humbled I am that you would entrust your stories to me. Some of you have suffered such great loss ... some of you are fighting to stay alive ... some of you are doing everything you can to keep someone you love from taking his or her life. Please know that even though I can't read all of your messages, my heart is with you all. You aren't alone in the fight, friends ... you are never alone in the fight.

When I got home from work this evening, I took Ollie for a long walk ... one of those long, meandering, I have much to mull over walks. When we got home, I built a fire and flipped on the television thinking I'd watch for a few minutes while I ate my dinner. I guess it shouldn't have surprised me when "Ordinary People" just so happened to be the movie that was playing ... an older movie about a family whose oldest son died in a boating accident and whose youngest son tried to commit suicide following his brother's death. 

What are the odds that movie would be on television tonight? The night after I posted Mark's letter about losing his friend Olivia to suicide. A movie I haven't seen in over a decade and yet it appears randomly on television tonight. I think maybe Someone wants to make sure I get the message.

What are the odds, friends? What are the odds indeed?

Fade to Black

Before you read tonight's post, there are a couple of things you should know. Other than this opening paragraph, I didn't write the words you'll read. I found them one night while I was browsing through emails, and I've wrestled with whether I should post them. You should know they're not easy words to read and that they're even less easy to get them out of your brain once you do. I wish I could believe that it was only by chance or coincidence that I just happened to open that particular email, but I don't. I believe I was meant to read this young man's words, and I believe I am meant to carry his words with me forever. It was no accident that I opened his email, and it's no accident that I now have the peace I needed to have before I could share them with you. I would ask that you read the young man's words with a spirit of compassion and grace ... I would ask that you be kind to one another always ... I would ask that you never take even one moment for granted.

Dear Mrs. Johnson,

I'm Mark and I'm writing to you because I know if you read this you'll help me get other people to read it to. I don't read your blogs much but my friend does and she told me to read the one you wrote back a while about it being easier to die and some others you wrote about being depressed. And when I did she told me I should write to you and you maybe would read it and get other people to read it and here's why. My friend Olivia died 8 days ago on her birthday after she hung herself in her room and she text me right before she did and said "fade to black". I thought she was joking and didn't mean it because she used to say that a lot. Like she would say when she was way down that she wanted to fade to black like the last scene in a movie. Olivia liked movies better than most things except for her little brother Hal. I thought she loved him enough that she would be ok and be able to keep coming out of the depression but not even that was more than her sadness was. 

I can't sleep much since Olivia died because I think I should have done something to help her or been a better friend and kept in touch with her more than I did after I got a new job at the mall. I cared so much about her but it wasn't easy sometimes to be her friend because of the depression she had. When she was in a good place she was the best and so much fun to be around. But it was like I knew even in those times that the sadness was still there and just waiting to get her down again. And when that happened so many times that the depression made her hate herself so much it was hard to keep watching it and I guess I got tired and stopped talking to her as much and told myself she'd be ok in the long run. And now she's dead and I can't sleep because she trusted me and I wasn't there. And I keep reading the text she sent me all the time when she said fade to black.

Why I'm sending you this letter Mrs. Johnson is because my friend says you're a real good person that wants to help lots of people and maybe my letter can help keep someone else from killing themselves. My friend Olivia was 17 years old the day she hung herself and it was Hal her little brother that found her and he is only 11 years old. I hope by a miracle you read my letter and put it in your blog if you want to and I hope it helps other people. Thank you.

Mark

And Just One More Thing

I have a confession to make ... it's been a while, a pretty long while, actually, since I've started a post with those words, and I'm sure you're on the edge of your seats wondering just what my confession might be. Though I would like nothing better than to share with you the plethora of thoughts I have regarding confession being good for the soul and how important it is to be open, honest, real and transparent in all things, I'll restrain myself and get right to my confession ... I seriously envy people who can think quickly on their feet and say everything they need to say in every conversation they have. Yep, I surely do envy those people a lot ... those people who are in touch with themselves and their thoughts well enough that they rarely, if ever, have to say, "And just one more thing." Whew ... I feel so much better now, like a giant weight has been lifted off of me. It's true ... confession really is good for the soul.

As I'm sure you've guessed by now, this evening's post is my "And just one more thing" addendum to my previous post, Soul Staring. After reading a bunch of emails I received following that post, I realized I had left something out ... an important something that happens when my little hound goes with me when I venture out to public places. People are so taken with Ollie the wiener dog that they're far less likely to judge me because of my short, spiky hair or my suspenders and bow ties or my tattoos. It's crazy, I know, but it's definitely true. People who might otherwise stare me down with "the look" (and if you're gay, you know exactly what "the look" is and what it feels like when it's sent your way) ... well ... they don't do it when Ollie's with me. I think he's giving off some mighty strong anti-hate vibes or he's my own personal cloak of invisibility. People are so focused on his cuteness and how well-behaved he is that they don't even notice that I'm different than them ... they don't see gay or straight, black or white, rich or poor, old or young. People see a woman who loves her dog and a dog who loves his human. And that, my friends, is pure awesomeness times a billion.

I know some people think I'm a few fries short of a Happy Meal when it comes to my canine pals I've had down through the years, and they may well be correct in that deduction. All I know is that there are few better ways to learn about unconditional love or loyalty or forgiveness or trust than from a dog. Imagine how much better the world would be if we humans could do for one another what my Ollie does for me. Just imagine if we didn't see race or nationality ... just imagine if we didn't see economic status ... just imagine if we didn't see gender or sexuality ... just imagine if we didn't see age. Just imagine how much better your world would be if you could do for others what my Ollie does for me. Just imagine, friends ... just imagine indeed.

Soul Staring

My life-saving head doctor and I first discussed the possibility of getting my wiener dog Ollie officially certified as an emotional support animal after the first time he traveled to Canada with me. I paid for Ollie to go with me on that trip, and it was worth every single penny I spent. The difference in my anxiety level about flying was like the difference between climbing Mt. Everest and walking up a tiny little hill. It was unbelievable how much more relaxed I was on those flights ... having my faithful little wiener dog curled up in my lap on the planes calmed my nerves better than any amount of Xanax ever had. It was obviously clear after our first journey together that the best thing for me, and Ollie, too, for that matter, was to ensure that he be allowed to travel with me from then on by doing whatever was necessary to get my furry friend his official emotional support animal credentials.

While my initial reason for getting Ollie certified was so that he could keep me from having a full-blown panic attack every time I got on an airplane, I soon began taking him with me on the weekends when I ran errands, too. I'm one of those dog parents who feels horribly guilty when I have to leave my pooch at home alone on the weekend after he's been at home alone all week while I'm at work. And besides that, those of you who've been reading along with me for a while know that shopping runs riding on an airplane a darn close second when it comes to anxiety-producing activities for me. It only took a few weekend errand-running excursions for me to recognize how much less anxious or stressed I feel when I take Ollie along with me. Just as I have no idea why I suddenly began having anxiety over things I never used to feel anxious about, I also have no idea nor can I offer any explanation as to how or why my little wiener dog helps me the way he does. All I know is that anxiety and panic attacks suck big time and Ollie is a Jedi master of calming me down.   

I'll readily admit that in the beginning my desire to have Ollie become a certified emotional support animal was completely and totally selfish. Yep, that's right ... in the beginning, it was absolutely all about him helping me. I don't know why I didn't see it before, but I've recently come to realize that my little pal helps far more people than just me. The photos I post and the stories I share on Facebook of his wiener dog adventures bring chuckles to lots and lots of people. Tired and weary travelers go from frowning to smiling the minute they see Ollie prancing through an airport. Starbucks drive-thru workers giggle like little kids as he happily gobbles up the whipped cream in his puppuccino. Shoppers and workers alike grin from ear to ear as they exclaim, "Oh, my gosh, he's so adorable!" when they see him sitting atop his blanket in the kid seat of the shopping cart. Girl Scouts selling cookies outside of Walmart ask if they can give him one. People ask if they can pet him. People ask if they can hold him. People ask if he can come and sit with them in their wheelchairs. The plain and simple truth is that Ollie helps far more people than me, friends ... the plain and simple truth is that there's something about Ollie that just makes people happy.

For all the wonderful scenarios about people and Ollie that I just mentioned, however, a couple of weeks ago, something happened on a Saturday that completely eliminated any teeny-tiny, itsy-bitsy lingering shred of doubt I might have had about my little hound's capacity for helping others. I had some extra time in between a couple of appointments, so I decided to stop by Half Price Books and pick up the book I needed for book club. It was just after opening time, so there were more employees than shoppers in the store. It seemed like only seconds after I asked where I could find the particular book I was looking for that Ollie and I were surrounded by every single employee in the building. They were all oohing and aahing over my adorable furry companion when suddenly one of the girls who looked to be a little older than the others in the group stepped closer to me, leaned over and gazed deeply into Ollie's eyes. When I told her she could pet him if she'd like, she looked up at me and I immediately noticed that she had tears in her eyes.

"I love your dog," she said in a soft voice that cracked as she spoke. "He's staring into my soul. Do you see him?"

I have to admit that I was taken aback by her words ... in all of the encounters Ollie and I have had with other people, no one has ever said my dog was staring into their soul. I didn't have a clue what to say to the girl, so I just nodded my head and smiled. She wiped at the tears that were by then running down her cheeks as she turned and spoke to the co-worker who was standing to her right.

"Look at his eyes, Sarah ... do you see his eyes? They're soulful ... he has eyes that see what people don't see. This dog is staring into my soul, Sarah ... do you see him?"

I'm one of those people who believes that everything happens for a reason, and I think there was a reason that my first appointment ended early on that cold and snowy Saturday morning. I don't believe it was mere coincidence that I decided to spend my unexpected extra time in the bookstore ... not even a little bit do I believe that was simply happenstance. Though I don't know what was going on with the young woman and I'm sure I never will, I do know that my sweet Ollie boy helped her somehow ... somehow, my little wiener dog stared into that gal's soul and helped her.  

Needless to say, I've thought a great deal about the young woman and her reaction to Ollie that day, and in doing so I've come to realize that there's a huge lesson to be gleaned from what took place in those few minutes that morning ... a lesson that's not just for me, but for all of us. Some of you will think it's stupidly simple, and some of you will think it's impossibly difficult. What do I think? I think it could easily be life-changing.

We can't help each other until we stare into each other's souls.

I think I'll leave you to ponder on that one for a while ... roll it around in your mind and let it settle into your heart. Be careful, though ... it may well change the way you look at those around you ... it very may well indeed.  

A Special Kind of Love

Some would argue that I haven't learned much in my 57 years of life, and there are days when I'd have to agree with them. I'd like to believe, however, that at least of couple of those life lessons not only managed to get through my bull-headed, stubborn-as-a-mule mind but that they also managed to take up permanent residence in my heart. For all the things I should have learned along the way but didn't, there's one I learned a few years ago that will be with me forever ... unexpected friendships are often the best ones of all. Take my friend Yosef, for example ... he's without question one of the greatest friends I've ever had. His was truly an unexpected friendship ... one that I could have never anticipated ... one that I now cannot imagine ever living without.

I met Yosef when he first came to interview for a job at the company where I work. I happened to be at the front desk when he came in and me being me and him being him, it only took a few short minutes for us to become engaged in conversation. When he finished his interviews, he came to find me at my desk and we chatted some more, exchanged email addresses and agreed that we would keep in touch even if he didn't get the job. I'll never forget the day Yosef texted me to say that he got the job and would soon be moving to Kansas City from New York. I'm not sure which one of us was more excited ... him for his new job or me for my new friend. 

There's not much that Yosef and I haven't talked about over the last couple of years ... not much at all. From dating to depression to cooking to rock climbing to wiener dogs to airplane rides to hippie parents to grandchildren to marriage to politics to religion to wanting to make a difference in the world ... you name it and Yosef and I have talked about it. And if by chance there's a subject we haven't discussed, I am certain that we will at some point. He's chopped firewood for me, checked on me when he knew I was afraid (like tonight), found a fantastic deal on a new TV for me when I moved and then spent a ton of time hanging it on the wall above my fireplace, wiped away my tears more times than I can count, laughed at my stupid jokes, and perhaps my favorite of all ... he came to my desk every single day to give me a great big hug. I'll tell you something about Yosef's hugs that I never told him ... there were weeks, months even, when his hugs were the only human touch I received.

A week ago, I learned that Yosef would be leaving our company ... my sweet friend is off on his next great adventure, and there's not a doubt in my mind that there are big things ahead for him. There's also not a doubt in my mind that we will stay close and that our friendship will always remain one of the best of my life. Yosef teaches me every single day what it really means to be a true and loyal friend ... through good times or bad, sadness or joy, health or sickness, abundance or need ... Yosef teaches me every single day what it really means to be a true and loyal friend.

There's a special kind of love between Yosef and I ... an unexpected friendship kind of love. Thank you for being my friend, Yosi ... I count you as one of my life's greatest blessings, and I thank you for being my friend.