I found out something about myself last night that I am not real proud of. Maybe that’s too strong of a phrase, maybe disappointed would be a better way to describe my feelings.
Allow me to explain. Have you ever watched a movie where a guy goes to visit with his terminally ill buddy? And they end up sitting in the hospital laughing at all the great times they had, telling stories about the crazy adventures and hitting on the nurses? Well, I found out last night that I’m not ‘That Guy’. I really wanted to be ‘That Guy’, but I’m not.
It turns out that I’m the guy who shows up and immediately can’t speak. I’m the guy who starts blinking repeatedly as soon as he sees one of his best friends with tubes coming out of him, slowly raising a spoon full of soup to his lips as if it’s the most heavy thing in the world.
I’m the guy who is very glad his buddy’s sister is there to distract him from the raw pain that he’s experience. I’m not the guy who can ‘take it like a man’, apparently.
When given some alone time with his friend, I’m the guy who can barely gurgle out “I love you” while hugging his sick friend. And, it turns out that I’m the guy who’s very sick friend has to comfort!
I really wanted to be the other guy.
I should know better though.
It turns out that I’m also the guy who can’t write a blog post about this st
uff without sobbing like a baby.
Well, that’s enough of my poking at this very fresh emotional wound. Maybe in time, when it scabs over, I can pick at it some more. But until then, this is enough.