My friend Nelson and I were relaxing in the amazing
Cowboy Cottage,
he involved in an art project, I shirtless with a towel draped round my
neck shaving in the mirror. It was late at night, dark outside.
There was a knock at the door.
Not expecting any visitors, wondering who it might be, I called out to
Nelson "Open it!" while surveying my work in the mirror, rinsing my
razor under the tap. He put down his yarn, got up and opened the door.
"Who is it?" I called out, not hearing anything for a moment or two.
"Who is it, Nelson?" I called out again. After another long moment,
Nelson said "It's Franklin. He wants to know if he can come in.".
The razor fell from my open, startled fingers clattering into the sink.
Something had just happened that couldn't have just happened.
Something had just happened that wasn't going to happen. In the
split second even before I turned around to greet him with open arms, I
knew five years had just reached a sudden completion, a new era had
begun. In that split second even before I turned around, a deep sense
of gratitude and relief was already settling in.
It goes with the territory of being human to move and to grow. The
people whom we love, the people whom we befriend early in life may not
be around us later in life. We (or they) may have moved to another
city, to another country even. We (or they) may have moved mentally and
socially. Our interests may no longer be the same.
Sometimes I've ended relationships. Sometimes I've been the one to
disengage.
Sometimes people have ended relationships with me. Sometimes they've
been the one to
disengage.
Relationships have ended in my life sometimes because I've moved on to
other interests, sometimes because my partners have moved on to other
interests or even to other relationships. And I'm certainly not the one
to lay any blame on relationships ending because my partners have moved
to another city or to another country. I've been
around the block
a few times myself.
Friendships may end for various reasons. Relationships may end for
various reasons. But love never ends. Even when friendships end, even
when relationships end, even when marriages end, love never ends. When
a friendship ends in your life, when a relationship ends in your life,
even if your marriage ends, ask yourself if you still love the person.
If your answer is "no" then you never did love them.
I've always loved Franklin. I always will. For reasons best known to
himself, Franklin was the one to
disengage
from our relationship. I've got a pretty good idea why he did, but I'll
never be certain. My take on what drives people to do what
they do is exactly that: just my take, just my assessment, just my
interpretation,
just my opinion anyway, not worth the
paper it's typed on. No matter which way I explain why Franklin
disengaged,
it doesn't change anything one iota. Franklin disappeared from
my life almost as suddenly as he entered into it, and I was left loving
him, with no relationship (other than the
Zen
of a relationship which is "no relationship"), and a
rapidly fading memory of a close friendship that once was. Not only
that, but I was also resigned to there being a good chance it could be
this way between Franklin and me for the rest of our lives.
And now, suddenly, with just a knock at the door, without fanfare,
without explanation, without a story to tell, without an excuse to
make, without requesting an invitation, after five years Franklin was
back ... just ... like ...
that.
Nothing needs to be added. That to which Werner refers is plain. But
what if I were to venture something to add to this
definition of a miracle, specifically in the context of this
conversation about Franklin coming back? If I were to add anything at
all to Werner's definition of a miracle, I would extend what Werner
says to this: "A miracle is something that validates who you are rather
than diminishes who you are ... AND ... who you are
doesn't need to validate the miracle.".
Franklin's return is a miracle. Neither he nor I require validation.