Is the dream better than reality?
How to live- the day before you die.
It’s funny how time changes things. For so many years I tried to forget things, thinking that if I only forgot- I could move on. And now all I’m trying to do is remember. I wish someone told me back then that you can’t unsee things, you can’t unhear things and most importantly you can’t unfeel things.
I remember walking and in the distance, the sun created this haze I couldn’t get through. I heard the rocks beneath my feet, I felt the last bit of sweat trickle down my face. My hands were filthy from weeks without showering, rubbing my eyes to get the sweat out-only to cake them in sand. But there I was, anywhere but home. Anywhere but with you. I’d like to say I dreamt of you but to dream you need to sleep, and the unending days not tucking in the sun sweet with the smell of burning shit in the distance. I’d try to remember what my grandmother looked like hoping that if I made it through this hell I would see her again to tell her I loved her. I could hear in the back of my mind through the gunshots ringing in my ears my mother calling me, “Jon! dinner is ready!” but the desert was nothing like dessert. I held my head up high shuffling my boots across a land ravaged by death and war wondering each step of the way- How the fuck did I get here?
It was Christmas back home. I somehow managed to miss every holiday. Nothing says, merry quite like a Christmas alone. But I wasn’t really alone. Not totally. I had the guys with me. Some of who, if we weren’t United States Marines together, I would never have probably given the time of day. At the end that would’ve been my loss. Because each one was great. Considering each of us was responsible for the others’ lives. We walked together- looking forward, looking behind, making sure to trace every step with constant concern and vigilance. But the reality was- no matter how much we tried or how good we were we never knew if today was our last day.
There’s freedom in it. That’s all. I don’t think I could explain it any better. There’s this innate peace letting go if you’re going to live or die- but to go on living. I think that’s the mistake a lot of people make. Thinking tomorrow is owed to us. Once you realize how little control you actually have, it gives you the opportunity to be free. Free of your worries, free of your cares, free of doubt or fears. Most importantly- free of the thought of tomorrow. The deep-seated dread we all harbor, that uneasy feeling of not knowing if you were to die tomorrow- did you do everything you wanted to do? Did you say everything you wanted to say? Did you love- as if your life depended on it? To tell you the truth I forgot what she looked like. I knew I loved someone back home and knowing she was there some days gave me the courage to keep going. But it was in the emptiness of an uncertain death that puts life into perspective. I used to think it was our ego that made us all think we were somehow more powerful than death- and I think most of the problems in this world now have to do with the people with power- trying to control theirs.
This story is a simple message. Etched across a thousand hazy sunsets, written deep somewhere in the back of our minds and then buried in the sands to be forgotten. And all I wanted to do was remember. Because I am still here- and the past is not. I hung on to the story I wrote in my head for so so long. Of bullets and battles, sirens, and smoke. Rifle hanging over my shoulder always 16 inches from my head. I could’ve pulled the trigger a million times. Any of us could. But that’s not my story. And it doesn’t have to be yours. People would often say to me, “It’s get’s better- hang on.” Or even better, “don’t give up you can get through this.” To be frank, I wanted to punch them in the throat. We can read all the self-help bullshit in the world but if we don’t want to change or even believe we can it won’t happen. People can talk a good talk. But you don’t know who they are when their head hits the pillow at night dreaming of what could be, what could’ve been, and what if. Sleep kisses us each in different ways as its lips touch our forehead playing games with our mind and we hold on to these illusions that keep us safe. And it’s the lie that tucks us in and kisses us good night. Is it cause we are young that life is supposed to be afforded to us? That we even have the entitlement to wake up in the morning. But we do, day after day, night after fucking night week after week suffocating on the things we never said, the people we never told, “I love you.” The chances we never took, the songs we never belted out or the dances we never tried. And then we wonder why we can’t fall asleep… We wonder why dreams are better than reality.
There have been too many times in my life I told my family, “I love you…” For what could’ve been the last time. Can I live with my past? What choice do we have? But can I live for my future? Why- It’s not guaranteed. So then what is there? What do we have? We have right now. So if you’re reading this, I want to thank you- from the bottom of my heart for helping me find the forgotten. We all have to dig up the desert at some point and find the fossils of our past that hang in the museum in our minds. Curated reminders of the past that sometimes we can’t let go of and we can’t quite remember. But we hang to it like our identities written on our name tags as we walk through life, “Hello My Name is…” Well? Well, who are you? Well, I can tell you- You’re human. You’re human and you don’t have to be perfect. You don’t always have to be, “fine” You’re human and you’re allowed to feel, you’re allowed to love and you’re allowed to love anyone you want. And more importantly- you are loved. You’re hope- that something is out there delicious like dessert that doesn’t melt in the desert that shines like the sun in the afternoon, high overhead and high on life and we wake up from our dreams rested from ourselves to realize that all we have is this very moment. So I hang my helmet on today knowing I’m alive. That even if I don’t have tomorrow I still have one sunset left in me. To be who I always wanted to be. To walk as far through that haze straight to you. And tell you, “It will be ok.”
Never did I look at war with the idea it would bring me so much peace. That really no story is ever closed. Because even when we are done, when our time is up and we walk into that sweet night for the final time- we will still live on. Our actions, our deeds, our words. The people who loved us and the people we loved. So act as if yesterday is gone and tomorrow is never coming- and what that will bring you is right where you always should’ve been. Right here. Today. Sometimes all we can do is close our eyes and smile.
