Hurricane Ephiphany

I’ve never used Skype. I’ve been asked to a couple of times, but haven’t.

But the thing really makes me wonder. Wonder about how much different things may have been had I had it.

Long distance relationships live and die due to communication. I’ve been through two of them. Both of the died.

Both of them came before I had a cell phone. I can’t say they came before cell phones, because they didn’t But they came before I had one.

So what did that mean? I meant lots of big-ass phone bills. Ones that I couldn’t afford to pay. So what did I do? I used my credit cards. To make phone calls. If you thought using long distance was expensive, try using your credit card.

The most difficult time was when I was living on a couch of two friends of mine. I couldn’t use their phone, b/c I couldn’t afford to pay them for using it. What a fucking awful time that was.

Then came the calling cards of the other relationship. The dreaded “you have one minute remaining” voice that always seemed to come at the wrong time.

Of course, I never communicated how awful it was for me financially. I was a “man” and had to do things on my “own.” What a fucking joke that is now as I sit here waiting for a hurricane named Earl to come and wash away all the scum and villainy. Ha.

Communicating is hard. I remember the first time I told my parents I loved them. I was in my 20s. Yeah, I wrote it down in cards and letters and such. But out loud? Not until then. One of those girlfriends, the exes, gets credit for teaching me how to do that.

I also remember the last time I saw my grandfather. He was in a hospital bed. Dying. He was barely there, but he was a fighter, and I knew he’d be around for a long while yet.

As I was leaving the hospital, I turned back around and looked him in the eyes. He looked at me. I told him “Hey, Oompa. I love you.” He squeezed my hand and looked at me with a look I’d never seen before. He couldn’t talk, but his eyes did.

I knew I’d see him again at that time.

Eventually, he left the hospital and tried to get better. From what I heard, he actually did for a bit.

But then, he quit. Got tired. Whatever.

I was supposed to go see him one weekend with my sister. She went. I didn’t. Why? I had to work. Don’t even remember what stupid freaking game or whatever I stayed for. It may have just been because I was scared to leave two green reporters alone. Control freak.

He died soon after.

At least I told him I loved him.

That, I owe to another of my exes. She taught me to go back and say things when they pop into your mind.

That’s why I drove oh so far to say something to her after. She wouldn’t listen, though. I guess it was for the better.

Touching that warm car engine that day, I knew she was there. I didn’t make a scene. Maybe I should have. Take my fist and pound on the door. Cry my eyes out.

Instead, I sat in my car -- the one she gave me just a couple months earlier to make it easier for me to drive down to see her -- and cried. I an only imagine her watching me sitting there, confused. A complete wreck.

The more I think about it, the more I realize she didn’t care for me enough to want to help me. She just wanted to abandon me. But I didn’t come to this epiphany while sitting there. I didn’t come to it while in therapy two years later. Or while another girl smashed my heart and got me to throw away all the things that really were important to me -- my writings.

No, I realized it while I was typing this. While looking at how quiet, how calm it is outside. The crickets aren’t very noisy. They know what’s up. A storm’s a comin’. And it may just be a good cleansing thing. Like writing shit down in a notepad, typing it on a computer or scribbling it on a napkin or receipt. You never really know it’s coming, even with the weather channel.

See ya.