I have been quite a bad blogger the past weeks... Lots has gone on in my life, including but not limited to the discontinuation of chemotherapy for my illness. Im saving all that for another entry that Ive been working on and off on, but tonight is a completely different entry...
Tonight Im writing from Cleveland, at Donnas house, its 0100 christmas morning and the last 24 hours for me have really been quite overwhelming...
A few months ago I wrote an entry about having a friend who was in pain, suffering emotionally and physically. I wrote about how my heart was breaking for him, and how his mother and I had been trying, unsuccessfully, to get him home as he lived in San Francisco - a world away. He surrounded himself by people who dont care about his well being, they used him, abused him, and then discarded him like trash. The past 18 months for this friend, a friend who I consider one of my absolute closest - nearest and dearest... the closest thing to a brother I expect Ill ever have... well, those 18 months have been awful for him. The world failed him. The people he thought were his friends failed him. He failed himself.
Its no secret my life has changed in the past three years because of everything I've been through, and I've been changed for the better because of it. This friend, so loyal and true, was one of the very select few (3 to be exact) that came and saw me after my diagnosis. The story goes, Lauren called him and said 'It's about Ryan and it's not looking good for him'. With just that, he boarded the first plane back to Ohio to be at my bedside, to hold my hand, to reassure me, to hug me and ultimately tell me - I was going to be okay. When I was in a place that was filled with more unanswered questions than not, these friends, him specifically, were an answer to one question that I so desperately needed answered... I was not alone.
It was from that day, and I know I say this often, that I said to myself 'I will repay him someday, for the kindness and love he showed me.' And when I found out what it is I found out, I knew without a shadow of doubt, this was my chance. That was 18 months ago... I have spoken to his mother regularly, updating her on what i know hes going through, the stuff she might have not heard from him, because you see, there were only two people here fighting to save my friend... his mother and myself. We have tried and tried, and I know his mother has done way more than I have, and I suppose if I was in the financial situation I'd have gone out there to get him myself.
His mother has become one of my dearest friends, and watching someone you care for not be able to live their life because their mind is consumed with how to save their child is heart breaking. I can't tell you how many times we'd gotten together and she would shed a few tears and I was able to stay strong and didn't cry, but on the inside I was sobbing uncontrollably for both her and him. My fight to get my friend back, quickly became my fight to get my friend back, and his mother her life back. I don't know many parents that would go to the ends of the earth like she has, I like to think my parents would, but this woman is, in particular, amazing and I hold her in very high regards. I promised her, from day one, I was in it for the long term, and he could do anything he wanted to me or say anything, but I wouldn't quit... because I owe him this, and on top of that, even if I didn't feel I owed him something, he has been a constant in my life for almost 9 years.
There were times that were tough, screaming matches that left us with hurt feelings, the feelings she and I would have of knowing we were the only two people in this fight for him, missed flights, empty promises, tons of money gone...
But none of it mattered...
This was a life we were talking about and not just any life, the life of an extraordinary individual who we both loved regardless of the hateful things or actions that may have been tossed our way. I often describe those friends that stood by myside at the hospital by saying; they were those who loved me when I didn't love myself. His mother and I, we are the ones who loved him when he wasn't loving himself.
In any event, the past week has been a roller ride to say the least... first he was coming home, then he missed the flight, he didn't talk to us for a few days, then we were both screamed and yelled at, then he calmed down and ultimately I got the phone call Thursday from him and he and I had the conversation that we needed to have, and I was able to get him to agree to come home. I knew he had gotten to the airport at SFO in the morning and neither myself nor his mother heard anything from him. She drove to Columbus International Airport last night praying he'd be there. (even though we were about 95 percent sure he was on the flight)...
At 10:50pm last night, things in the world just seemed to be right for once. My friend was home. My emotions were big, I ugly cried, I laughed, I smiled and sniffled... but it was all happy. I know last night was the first night in 18 months that his mother has gone to sleep and not been so sad that she cried because her son was out there. She knew exactly where he was, right where he belonged - next to her. I went to bed and instead of tearing up because this person I loved so much was in so much hurt and pain, felt so much dispair and lonliness, and was potentially homeless... instead of that, I went to bed knowing he was warm in a bed, with a roof over his head, near a refrigerator with plenty of food. But most of all, I went to bed knowing he was safe.
Though we've just started the next part of the journey, I've learned a lot about myself through this as well and I've gained in his mother, an amazing friend and someone I consider to be a second mother. There are other ways I can help him now, ways that I can definitely be of big help and I'm glad to do so. I just hope that something I've said or done for him in the past 18 months helped. Helped him, helped his mother... just helped.
So why write this blog on this night of all nights?
Because this night is the night that meant the most to his mother. All she wanted was for him to be home by Christmas this year. There were times when it looked like it might not happen, and times when we both were discouraged, but it is this night, Christmas Eve night, that he is asleep where he is loved and protected. Christmas miracles do happen, let this just serve as an example. I'd have gladly given up any gift to know he'd be here, and on Monday when I see him, Im going to give a belated Christmas gift, but one that I've waited so long give... The hug I give him when I whisper in his ear, through all the tears I know I'll have, that everything is going to be okay.
Dont forget:
Never give up.
Persistence does pay off in the end.
A human life, especially one of a family or friend, is priceless.
I hope, wherever you are, you have the most wonderful Christmas. Whether you're with your family, your friends, or with yourself - don't forget the people in your life who mean the most to you, and just for a split second let them know they matter, and how far you'd go to save them.
38 months ago I didn't think I'd see another Christmas, and because of the people in my life: My mom and my dad, my sister, Donna, Jeanne and my closest friends, Lauren, Emily, Megan, Heather, Chris, Justin and Beckey... Because of them, and their love for me, I'm about to celebrate the third Christmas since my diagnosis, three Christmases I wasn't supposed to have, three bonus Christmases... whatever you want to call it... Its the third Christmas of what I hope to be a long, long line of Christmases to come.
So wherever you are tonight... Happy Christmas to you, and your family... I love you...
And tonight, Im going to bed with a smile on my face, because someone very special to me, is where he belongs...
Home.
