My therapist has not called me back. It’s not that I need it. It’s like a friend said, “you go to it because you like it more than you need it.” I agreed at the time, but I cannot underestimate the benefit of a weekly unloading of all of the “snakes in my head.” There’s always a peaceful serene feeling when leaving, even when I am leaving in tears.
He hasn’t called though, and I am worried. I guess you may thing that’s selfish. He was diagnosed with lung cancer a couple of years back. Has been receiving aggressive therapy, and generally seems to be doing okay. I guess it wouldn’t be right for him to let on otherwise. I just don’t know.
I went so far today as to search the obituaries on the newspaper web site to see if there was any news there. I was glad to find none. Even given my problematic relationship with God, I have spent time praying for him on my nightly rituals recently.
Today I daydreamed as I was driving home, dog-tired, what I would feel like if I found out he was no longer with us (can’t even say the words). I started to weep in the car. Like I had lost a friend. I pay to go see this person once a week and he knows more about what goes on in my head that anyone else in the world (including myself), I know nothing of him except I think he has grand kids, and a daughter, possibly a wife, and this growth in his lungs of which I am not sure the state. Yet, I am crying like my best friend is gone.
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