Just read this amazing story on CNN. Many of you may not know that I was born premature by 2 months. I have, after all, grown quite a bit... and then some, damn it. I can probably fit my premature self into my current self, if that makes sense. Anyway, that makes me quite a survivor. Somehow, coming in at a mere two pounds, I fought my way (thank you, no name doctors) to be alive.
Alan would have been 25 today; he was born at a healthy eight to nine pounds on October 3rd 1981. Whereas I fought to survive at birth, he probably was kicking and screaming already. The past years were, at times, filled with questions. What I could have done, what happened, WHY. I will never have an answer. Lately, I blame The Dark Side.
You and I have all experienced The Dark Side. Anger causing us to "lose it," although most of the time we can control that Dark Side: it's intense, but not overwhelming. Common sense, for the most part, prevails and we continue on our merry little lives. But for the few times that The Dark Side takes over, you never quite know what will happen.
I was at that juncture a few days ago. So angry and furious that I did things I wouldn't have done otherwise. I deliberately (yet uncontrollably) hurt someone; blinded by frustration, whatever came to my mind went to my fingers. It was as if I forgot about decency and all the good times that I had spent with this person.
After the fact, I felt much better. Much more relieved. I know I didn't do the right thing; but whatever I did, it worked for me. Deep down, I think it might have worked for Alan too.
Happy birthday, Alan.