Letters from NYC

Voices

There are voices which come to me at the oddest moments. Voices from the past and of people I’ve known. I’ve heard reassuring voices of some of my friends who have past on. Mike’s voice has always been the loudest and strongest, and that’s probably because he’s the one I’ve known the longest.

His voice was there, as it had been many times before, affirming, assuring, nagging and promising me things would turn out alright. When I had no hope or faith, it was his faith that always carried me through whatever challenge I was facing. Overtime, I began to develop a faith and a hope of my own. His guarantees, were the reassurance I needed in order for patience to take hold and wait for the miracles to happen in my life.

It was Mike’s voice who hounded me every day for months, to get off my ass, start walking and get back in shape. He was a guy who could not stand flab in his loved ones. He knew that if he said it to me enough times I’d get tired of his nagging voice and I’d do something just to shut him up. It worked.

The first time I went out of the house in my running shoes I asked myself how long should I go for. Mike’s military voice chimed in, “no more than 40 minutes.” It was so authoritative I nearly stood at attention and saluted. As I began doing the conversion in my head of how far that would be, his voice came booming back, “that means every day, rain or shine, sleet or snow, until you start running again. EVERY DAY, No Excuses!” The marine in him was still coming through. So I followed orders. And as I climbed the stairs to my building at the end of that first walk, he was there. The hard slap on my back and the grip on my shoulder, that pushed me forward so hard I nearly fell, told me he was. His words came next, loud and clear: “You had a good start today. Now don’t give up”. He was a man of few but firm words, so I didn’t give up.

In the last few weeks, Mike’s voice was overlapped with others. The voices of my track and volleyball coaches of years ago came back to help me remember all the things I’d forgotten: how to warm up and for how long, how many weeks to walk then jog before getting back into running; how to set small goals and once achieving them, how to move continuously forward to exceed them. Their voices were always there waiting for me to listen.

Now they are there every time I put on my running shoes, helping me figure out what my routine will be for the day, based on how my legs feel, the weather, and the time I have available. They are there as I gather my gear and subconsciously search the skies for an excuse to shorten my walk, that’s when they tell me they won’t accept any excuses, otherwise I have to drop down and give ‘em 20! I dare not roll my eyes at them or I know I would get slapped in the back of my head.

It’s their voices that tell me to shorten my stride and lean forward when I begin to climb the hill, while doing battle with the ice cold wind that pushes me back. That’s when Mike would chime in, “what’s a little cold wind in your face.” I hear the coaches guidance every time I get into a stretching position and feel the muscle resist my tug, while they tell me to hold and wait just a few more seconds, until the muscles finally give in. As I move from walking to jogging spurts, my legs begin to feel like cement and my shins begin to hurt. It's then that they remind I’ve gone through this worse - like right after my ski accident. As I push past the pain they smile, and I with them, knowing that I'm finally on the path again.

For the last few weeks they have all been telling me everyday not to quit in spite of the weather and slow progress. Whenever I’m dissatisfied with how far I have yet to go, they keep reminding me that I’m still moving forward and meeting my small goals. They reassure me, that as long as I don’t quit, I will not fail. I can tell their voices are here to stay, as they’ve been getting stronger and louder with each new day. All the while, Mike’s voice was growing quieter and slowly fading away..

In the wee hours of Monday morning, Mike came to me in my dreams once again. He had stopped by my apartment to have a heart to heart with me. He told me he was very proud and happy that I was finally coming out of my shell and into my own. Like an excited jubilant child I rushed to tell him all the wonderful things that were going on with me. He just sat there at the edge of the couch and smiled his big warm smile and said, “I know.” I smiled too, knowing that we knew each other’s mind and that he could finally see he didn’t have to nag or worry about me any longer.

As he got up he said: “well, it’s time for us to go.” Puzzled I slowly repeated: “us?” “go?” ”where?” He smiled once more and said: “You’ve done well kid! You’ll do fine. You can now take it from here.” After a very long silence I knew exactly what he meant, then he was gone.

In our 18 years of friendship we never said goodbye. We never needed to, because we knew we would be there for each other forever. When we first met, I was the reluctant fledgling he had taken under his wing. As I grew, it didn’t matter how far I’d gone, for we were always in each other’s heart. We were now able to leave each other and let go because he knew I had finally learned to fly. He had seen how an incredible new family had taken me under their wing and given me enough lessons to soar on my own.

Goodbye Mike....I will love you forever!

Posted by Michele at April 6, 2005 02:23 PM