The Gift Of Cat Urine

I've mentioned before that Jonah and I own three cats.  I love them all, but the oldest, Trooper, seems to have a special affection for me.  She adores me, and I really love her a lot, too.  She generally sleeps right next to me at night, and she's always wanting to cuddle and for me to rub her tummy.

There is a rather disgusting, chewed up, slobbered-over toy that the cats love.  We call it the "Purple Baby."  I often find the "Purple Baby" on my side of the bed.  I know the cats put it there to express their love, and even though it's kind of gross-looking now, I genuinely am touched when I find it.  It is definitely the most well-traveled toy in the house.

Trooper has been especially affectionate lately.  Yesterday when I was petting her, she wasn't just being her regular purring self: she would playfully "attack" my hand with her head and lick it (Trooper isn't typically a licker, so when she does it, I know she is expressing love and gratitude).  I swear when I looked in her eyes I could feel some sort of telepathic bond where I really felt she was saying, "I love you.  I really love you."  Maybe that sounds weird, but I really felt it.

This morning I was half awake and felt Trooper grooming me.  She was licking and cleaning my hair.  She does this every once in a while, and even though it's the same tongue she uses to drink out of the toilet bowl and lick her butt, I am strangely flattered.

Shortly after this, I heard her scratching in a place that wasn't a litter box.  This is never a good sign.  It means she is either about to pee or that she already has.  The place she happened to be scratching around was on the floor where I put my jeans and shoes.  It's where I always put them and she has never peed on them.  Jonah's clothes, yes.  Mine, never.

Until today.

My jeans were wet and there was a puddle of urine in my shoe.  The same shoe where I put my watch and wedding ring.

Grrr!

I was upset.  There is a perfectly good litter box less than 15 feet away.  Why did she have to pee in my shoe?

The more I thought about it, the less upset I became.  Cats often pee to mark their territory, to claim ownership, and I actually believe that in her own way, Trooper was telling me that I belong to her, that I am hers, and the pee was simply her way of making sure I knew that.  I do not feel it was malicious, and even think she felt bad that I didn't immediately understand her intentions.

Of course this didn't change the fact that there was still cat pee in my shoe and on my jeans.  The good thing was that it was fresh, and we were able to wash them before the urine soaked in.  But this also means I can't put my shoes and jeans on the floor anymore.  Once a cat marks its territory, it thinks it's okay to keep peeing there, and that is not acceptable.

Hopefully we have got the smell out.  The shoes are fairly new, so I'm not too excited about having to possibly get rid of them.

I'm glad my cat loves me; I just wish she would other ways of showing it.

 

Dementia Epiphany

I was in the shower the other day and I had an epiphany about dementia.  I thought about it in a way I'd never considered.

We always think of dementia in terms of being a terrible disease that robs a person of their mind.  I look at someone like Mom and think because her memories are mixed up that there is something wrong with her.

But I have this theory that the eternal spirit sees things all at once.  Linear time is how things appear to us in mortality, but I believe God sees things all at once.  Past, present, and future are all one.  For example, when my dad wrote love letters to my mom in 1958, God knew I would read them in 2013 because time does not exist.  I don't know how to explain it, but I know when I had a very revelatory experience, that's what I sensed and felt.  I could see things all at once.  Time didn't exist.

And as I've thought about this, I think, "What if what appears to us as a scrambling of memories and experiences is simply the inability of a mortal body to see things as the eternal spirit naturally sees them?"  Maybe as a person ages and gets closer to the end of his or her mortal life, the spirit's natural way of seeing things becomes more pronounced, but the mortal body can't process it, and so to the outside observer, it appears that there is something wrong. 

But what if what we view as disease in mortality is actually how an enlightened mind thinks normally?  What if the weakness we deem in my mother is actually a strength?

I'm not sure if I'm explaining myself well, but it just gave me a different perspective on what we view as a disease.

Speaking of Mom, here's today's nugget:

I called Mom up, and I said, "How's it going?"

"I'm in a very bad mood," she grumbled.

"Uh-oh, what's wrong?" I asked.

"I'm sick of people butting into things that are none of their damn business," she responded.  [Mom is not a swearer, by the way.]

"Oh, what happened?"

"Well, I have this friend, and he's really old, and he's in my room, and we're just talking. I don't know what they think we're doing, but they want me to leave my door open, and I don't want to leave my door open. It's none of their damn business!

"I don't know if they think we're making out or what. We're just talking! I've kissed him before, but it's like he's my father. He's really old. We're just friends. And if the door is open, anybody can hear our conversation, and it's none of their damn business. I'm in a really bad mood...but I love you."

"Well, that's good."

"When I hang up with you, I'm going to close my door, and if they open it again, I'm just going to close it. It's my room, and it's none of their damn business what we're doing in there."

And yes, folks, she did say "none of their damn business" several times. I didn't try to fight it; I don't think it would have done any good.

Embracing Death

I've been thinking a lot about death today.

An acquaintance of ours is terminally ill.  He will die...and soon.  It's only a matter of time.

This man is more of a friend of a good friend than he is a close of friend of mine.  But the good friend (who I have written about before) is in prison and cannot visit his dying friend, and so Jonah and I have been visiting in his stead.

The dying man has been somewhat of a tortured soul.  As long as I have known him, he has been very cynical and seems to have a lot of pent up anger, bitterness, and resentment.  He certainly has not been much of a believer in God as long as I've been acquainted with him.  I know he grew up in an abusive home and he has also been plagued with HIV for much of his life.  He was once a physically handsome individual, but the side effects of his medications have distorted his appearance, and I think that is one thing he has been unhappy about.  He has had a somewhat empty life.  To the best of my knowledge he has no family and is alone.  He has had no serious relationships that I know of.  He was not particularly well-liked or even well-understood by many who know him.

Let's call him Jack.  When Jack's health took an especially sharp turn for the worst, Jonah and I visited him.  He asked why God would play such a cruel trick on him, and then immediately apologized for it as if he feared that same God.  This was especially interesting since he seems to be an atheist.  But it also signaled to Jonah and me that maybe Jack was entering a new phase of his life.
 Jack also talked about what a wasted life he had had and lamented that he had very little to show for it.  I don't think that's true.  I think he made many good contributions to his life.  He also talked about feeling remorse for never forgiving the father who abused him.  This was interesting coming from a man who had held on to so much bitterness and anger about many things (not just his father).

As the weeks have passed, Jonah and I have noticed great changes in Jack.  No longer do we see a guy so racked with pain and cynicism, but someone who is witnessing things he probably never believed in.  Jack has made a conscious choice to stop eating.  When Jack was in great pain, he had talked about committing suicide.  In a way, I think Jack is still committing a sort of suicide, although since his prognosis is terminal, I don't necessarily blame him.

I've talked about my attitudes about death before in this blog.  I've never been particularly afraid to die nor have I really ever thought of death as a negative or bad thing.  I think it's just part of life; a transition we go through as part of our greater spiritual life.

Certainly the temporary separation it causes can be painful and sad, especially for those who have no faith or belief in an afterlife.  I, however, do believe that life continues on after the separation of our body and spirit, and in fact, don't believe in a "death" at all.  The spirit is and always will be.  What we call death is simply a temporary separation, and I do indeed believe it is only temporary.

I notice as I get older, the more people I know who die.  That's the same for many.  And I do think of my own mortality and realize that I could, in fact, die tomorrow if that is what happens.

I also think of the blessings of death.  Jack has suffered a lot.  I sense that he has not known much peace in his life.  I think of the love and understanding he will come to know on the other side of the veil, and I think that will be a great blessing to him.

I think of my cancer-ridden friends, Melanie and Marlyse; or my tortured friend, David, who committed suicide; and I think of my own dear father who basically suffocated in his own liquids for a month before he died and how miserable he was during that time.  I think of my dad's mother, who was so unhappy after her husband passed away that she kind of gave up on living life.  I think of the corruption and evil of this world and the fact that death is only a return to a love and understanding that we don't fully comprehend here.

Now before you get the wrong idea, I am not in any way, shape, or form saying that I wish to die.  In fact, I have a great deal to live for.  When I was buried deep in the closet trying to be a good Mormon boy, I longed for death.  I longed to be taken away from this mortal existence so that I wouldn't have to deal with it anymore.  Finding Jonah and coming out changed all that.  I'm very happy in my life and happy with Jonah.  I have somebody else to live for, not to mention family and friends that I love and need and who need me.  I like my life very much and feel I have a lot of it I'd like to live and hope Jonah and I are together for a long time.

At the same time, if God called me home tomorrow, I am not afraid to die.  I feel like I have a lot more left to do, but when it's my time to die, I'd like to believe I'm ready for it and would face it without guilt, fear, trepidation, or regret.  And I believe there is a peace and love finds on the other side that some people have a harder time finding on this side.

I, myself, feel quite peaceful about my life and the direction it's heading and the choices I've made.  I'm far from perfect and certainly always have room for improvement, but I have honestly striven to be the best and most loving person I can be.  Some days I fail, but it isn't from lack of trying.

I remember a song my choir sang in high school by Johann Sebastian Bach with a vocal smear (where individual singers in the choir sing one note at a time on their own breath, thus creating a cacophony of sound that is both dissonant and beautiful).  In fact, I believe it was this arrangement:

   

I thought at the time that it was so beautiful and haunting.  For some reason my thoughts today reminded me of its lyrics:

Come, sweet death, come blessed rest!
Come lead me to peace
For I am weary of the world.
Oh come!  I wait for you.
Come soon and lead me,
Close my eyes.
Come, blessed rest.

While at the time I thought the music wonderful, I found the lyrics to be depressing.  Today I think I understand why someone might be compelled to write such lyrics.

Death is a friend, not an enemy; something that releases rather than takes or steals; something to be embraced, not feared.  Even those who are taken too young or "in their prime" or "before their time" are only separated from their loved ones for a season.  And admittedly, that season can be very painful and hard and seemingly unfair, but it is a temporary state.

As I've dealt with my own mom, who is very much alive, I have been struck by the circle of life.  We start as infants, and when I look at newborns and babies who are unable to speak, I sense that their connection beyond the veil is still intact; that they see and hear things we are not in tune enough to see or hear ourselves because mortality has tainted that connection; that their connection with God is very strong.  Then as I look at those who are getting old, I witness that same childlike quality and dependence I see in children.  Whereas our parents once took care of us, now we in turn must take care of them.  Likewise, I witness that same spiritual connection in those who are getting ready to die, like Jack.  They begin to see and hear things we don't recognize, but I believe they are very much real.  They are getting ready to make the transition, and it is a good thing, not a bad one.

I have a feeling people like Mom and Jonah will hang on to life for a while.  Death will not come swiftly to them.  Whereas I suspect (and hope) death for me will be quick and sudden.  Or, at the very least, will be something I embrace without trying to hang on to life.

 But who knows?  Only time will answer that question.

The fact is, death is something we will all experience.  It's simply a part of life.  As we get older, more people we know will die and eventually we will, too.  Jack has anywhere from a few days to a couple of months.  I may have years to go.  I may go tomorrow.  But I will go someday and so will you.

Mom always seemed afraid to talk about death.  She found it depressing and would change the subject.  I don't dwell on the subject, but it's certainly not one I fear nor does it bother or depress me.  In fact, it fascinates and intrigues me.  Yes, I miss loved ones when they pass, but death is just a phase of the never-ending existence we all have.  It's just part of our progression.  I'm not wishing for it or wanting it, but neither do I fear it, and when it happens, that's just the next step in this glorious life that I have the privilege to call mine.

The Power of Music

I find it interesting that my sister wrote a post on her blog with the exact same title I had planned for mine.  But like she said, there can be more than one post in the world with the same title.

I had talked in this post about how Mom and I had been playing a game of Trivial Pursuit.  One of the other questions was "What airplane did Shirley Temple sing about in the 1934 film, Bright Eyes?"

The answer was "the Good Ship Lollipop."  Mom has always been a big fan of Shirley Temple.  She loves so many of her movies and pre-dementia, she would have had no problem answering this question.  But this evening she did not know the answer.

I decided to give her a hint and started humming the song.  I could see Mom's eyes register recognition and she even mustered a few lyrics from the song and finally was able to come up with the title.

It reminded how powerful of a tool music can be in assisting the memory.  Sometimes music can reach a person in a way that other means are unable to do.  I started singing a song to Mom recently (I can't even remember which one), but she knew all the lyrics started singing them herself, so I let her finish unaided.  And yet, she no longer remembers the name of the city where she has lived for nearly 52 years or how her own mother died.  I find that fascinating.

My younger sister grew up with a developmental disability that made it hard for her to retain information.  My mom would spend hours and hours with her helping her study, and one of the methods she used that helped my sister greatly was creating songs to help her remember stuff, and that seemed to help a lot.

I remember a physiology class I took in college.  I remember very little of what I learned in it, but I do remember that the word coalesce means "to come together" because my friend and I used the Beatles' song, "Come Together" as a mnemonic device to help us remember the definition.

The song "Our House" by Madness always makes me think of waking up in my brother's bedroom, which I was sleeping in while he served a mission, because I had fallen asleep with the radio on, and that song was playing when I woke up.  I was walking through a market in Belgium with my missionary companion the first time I ever heard Whitney Houston's version of "I Will Always Love You."  Those are just a couple of examples of music being tied to very specific memories.

I think music transcends verbal communication and can speak to our hearts and minds on a whole different level.  I remember watching a ballet and hearing the music and being brought to tears for no reason than that the beauty of the music spoke to me in such an emotional way.  Samuel Barber's "Adagio for Strings" always makes me cry even though I associate no particular sad thought with it.  It is just a powerfully sad piece of music.  Likewise, ABBA's "Dancing Queen" always makes me feel so happy.

I may have said it in this blog before, but if I had to choose between going blind or deaf, I would choose blindness.  I could get along without seeing, but I would find it very difficult to get by without music.

When researching different memory care units for my mom, one of them sent me power point presentation which included a fascinating video on reaching Alzheimer patients through nontraditional means.  I find this video absolutely stunning and amazing:

It's really amazing what music can do.

I like this one, too:

As I was driving the big rental truck with some of Mom's stuff in it back home, I was listening to the only CDS I had which were a bunch of Barry Manilow compilations given to me by my brother-in-law.  Some of Barry's songs seemed more poignant and sad to me given Mom's current situation.

One song I like of Barry's is called "When October Goes."  The music is by Barry Manilow set to some old lyrics by Johnny Mercer, one of the great songwriters.  It's a sad tune.  I don't know Mercer's original intent, but as I really listened to the lyrics, it seemed to me to be about getting older; of one season ending and another beginning.  It seems October represents a season before it gets cold and everything starts to die.  It just made me think of my mom and how the youthful season of her life has ended and the season that leads to death, whether slowly or quickly, is upon her.  And it made me think of how hard is sometimes is to "let October go." 

Maybe that's not what the intent of the song originally was, but that's what it means to me.  Here are the lyrics:

And when October goes
The snow begins to fly
Above the smokey roofs
I watch the planes go by
The children running home
Beneath a twilight sky
Oh, for the fun of them
When I was one of them

And when October goes
The same old dream appears
And you are in my arms
To share the happy years
I turn my head away
To hide the helpless tears
Oh how I hate to see October go

And when October goes
The same old dream appears
And you are in my arms
To share the happy years
I turn my head away
To hide the helpless tears
Oh how I hate to see October go
I should be over it now I know
It doesn't matter much
How old I grow
I hate to see October go

It's hard to let your loved ones go into that season, wanting to help them, but feeling helpless at times.  I was a sobbing mess as I listened to it, knowing that things will never, never be the same for my mom again...or for us either.

A family friend who is advising us on some legal matters that may potentially save some of Mom's assets wrote the following to me:

 "Here my thoughts.

"First, accept that things are happening that you can't change, and then ONLY stress about deciding on the things you have power over.

"Accept:
-Your mom needs to be in a care facility
-She won't respond like she did before, ever
-Your role, and that of your siblings has changed from your mother's children, to your Mom's caregivers. She's totally dependant on whatever you do, and nothing will come "back to you" from her as the parent she once was.
-Plan on getting NO inheritance so long as she is in the care facility (this info you are sending me seems like an amazing exception to this)

"What you have power over
-The facility she will be in
-How much time you will spend visiting her - even though she probably won't remember your visits or even you
-Can you save some of her money as an inheritance and STILL provide for her fully? This option from Callister seems excellent. I know this firm by reputation and trust them. Even if it costs you a bit, its all money you would never get. I say do it.
-Acceptance of your Mom's condition and that she will soon, if not already, forget who you are.

"These are difficult times for you. I love your Mom. She's special to me both as a person and as an old Cub Scout Den mother. I know what you are losing. Just know that this is the time of life you are in, as is she. My mom is also starting to decline and lose her memory.

"Hang in there. All the good parts of you have a lot to do with her gifts to you over the years."

I appreciated his thoughts and words of counsel.  You could tell he was sending them as a concerned friend and not just a lawyer.  And his words help put things in perspective.

Mom still wants to leave.  Probably will for a long time.  I hope she can adapt and find happiness with where she is.  It's a challenging road we walk these days.  10 years ago I never would have fathomed we'd be where we are today.

 

God's Perfect Love and Knowledge

I wish I could fully express what I've felt in my heart the last couple of days, but I know that the feelings I've felt can't be expressed properly here. I was reading a book recently and really received a strong impression regarding God's love for me. What became really clear to me was that God isn't judgmental. God doesn't judge us the way we often judge each other. There is nothing but love in his attitude towards us. This doesn't mean I don't believe we won't be judged for our sins. What it does mean is that there is no judgment behind it, at least not as we define it here in our mortal realm, if that makes any sense. I just felt so strongly that God views us with an eye of perfect knowledge and doesn't judge us the way we judge each other and ourselves. Words can't express the thought I'm trying to communicate, which is somewhat frustrating, but I just wanted to share this because I know so many of us get down on ourselves for so many various reasons, and God isn't viewing us in that way at all. So many times in my life I have felt God is disappointed in me or frustrated by my continually making the same mistakes or angry because I've done something wrong, and this spiritual impression made me see things so differently. I've known for some time that God loves me unconditionally, but I saw something different when this experience happened. We are truly here to learn and have different experiences, and God is not sitting there eyeing us, saying to himself, "Oh, he messed up again," or "What is wrong with him? Why can't he learn this lesson?". He is simply watching us with love and support and knows exactly what each of us is facing and just loves us. I really felt that life is for learning, not for punishing or condemning. So many times we do that to ourselves and each other and feel like failures or feel feelings of disappointment or self-loathing when we screw up. I just felt so strongly that God doesn't have those feelings towards us. He is simply filled with perfect, absolute love. It's a concept I certainly don't understand fully because it's hard in this mortal existence not to transfer our human feelings onto God, but I really feel he isn't passing judgment on us; He is simply loving us and helping us and thinks no less of us when we fail. Again, my words are clumsy and inadequate. My ideal would be to somehow transfer the feelings I felt to all of you who struggle because the experience really gave me hope and made me realize that God is not in the condemning business; He is truly a loving Father.

You know, I've really been learning a lot lately about myself and Heavenly Father and my relationship with Him, and the irony is that I'm learning a lot of different things from a different perspective. I'm kind of living my life with one foot still in the church and one outside of it, and I'm feeling that no matter what I do, God loves me more than I can ever possibly understand (at least in this life), and that things are going to be okay.

A great irony in my life is that I still believe quite strongly that the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints is God's true church on the earth, but as I've read the words of the Prophet and Apostles (specifically concerning this issue) lately, I just find that I can't seem to reconcile the reality that is my life with what I believe and know to be true, and that whether my acting on my gay feelings is God's will or not, somehow things are going to be okay. It doesn't make sense to me, but it feels right somehow, and I don't understand why. All I know is that God sees life all at the same time as opposed to the linear way in which we view it and that he loves me and knows what is best for me, and somehow living my life with Jonah at this time in my life seems like what I'm supposed to do. I keep asking God if I'm being deceived or if I'm rationalizing my actions. I still don't know the answers to those questions for sure, but somehow I feel that I was meant to be with Jonah, and that things will be okay, and I guess that will have to suffice.

You know, the other day a friend was asking me how I liked graduate school, and I was telling him all the good things about it and said that when I prayed about where I should go for graduate school two years ago that it was very clear to me spiritually that I needed to go to this school. And that is how I met and feel in love with Jonah. And my friend (who doesn't know about my sexual preferences) said, "Well, maybe that's where you will meet your wife," and I felt a strong impression that Jonah was the person I was meant to be with. Again, as far as what I've believed and known to be true, that seems contradictory, but somehow it seems right. I just feel I have to trust that Heavenly Father knows what He's doing and that this choice is right for me right now.

You know, I remember when my sister married her husband. They both felt so strongly that they needed to get married, and yet, to the rest of my family (including myself) it seemed so wrong, and we were all against it. Now, five years later, I see that God sees all from beginning to end, and I believe the direction he gave them, even though it seemed contradictory and hasty at the time, was probably for the best for her, him, her step-kids, and their daughter. It seemed so wrong, and yet now I don't believe it was, and it took me some time to get to that point. I guess the point I'm making is that somehow being with Jonah feels like the right thing to do even though on a gospel level, it seems wrong. I don't know, but I do know we love each other.

One final thought: also as I was reading this book this quote stuck in my head:

"...earth life is a gift. It is a school to learn how love manifests in the physical dimensions where bodies and emotions exist. But the school has many playgrounds, and those need to be used. The physical life is meant to be enjoyed. This is one reason you have been given the senses. Be good people. Have fun and enjoy yourselves. Enjoy the simple yet abundant pleasures of life while not harming other people or other things, like nature.
"Be more gentle... Don't do harm to others."

Be the best, most loving person you can be. Less judging, more loving; both to ourselves and others. That's what the Spirit was really telling me this week.

Prayers for Jonah

Jonah's family is having a harder time accepting his situation than mine is (although a couple of his siblings have been more supportive than he had imagined). Jonah's home life is not as smooth as mine has been. Anyway, I know he's going through some tough stuff right now, so I hope all of you in blogland will keep him in your thoughts and prayers (every little bit helps, right?).

My mom went to a ward function this evening, and several people had commented to her about what a nice testimony I gave on Sunday (see previous post). She wondered silently what they would think if they really understood what I was going through. I told her that was nice of them, but that I also wondered what they would think of me if they knew my situation. I'm sure many would be okay, but I know some who would have thoughts like, "He used to be such a good kid. What happened?" Mom said she had similar thoughts. I guess it's not easy on anybody. But like I told Jonah tonight, "We can't control how other people are going to react; we can only do our best to live the best lives we can."

My ex-girlfriend, Lisa, wrote me today. You can read more about her here. She and I have just started communicating again after about an eight year hiatus. Her husband (who never really liked me early on in their marriage) is okay with it, too. We're just so happy to be in each other's lives again. I've missed my friend (and she feels the same way). Anyway, she said something very nice in her letter that I didn't necessarily expect. She said:

"Okay...I'm going out on a limb for a moment here. I would never want to give anyone advice contradictory to the church, but it sounds to me like you'd be happiest with Jonah. I suppose the question then is, do you choose your peace of mind and happiness, or do you choose the church? Either choice will bring some heartache.

"...I have to believe that the God I have come to know over the course of my struggles is full of compassion and mercy. I have to believe that if one of my boys came to judgment full of tattoos, piercings, long hair, reeking of smoke and stumbling up the steps because of alcohol, that God would STILL throw his arms around him and welcome him home. I think that there cannot be a 'blanket judgment'...I think each person will be judged on a case by case basis, taking all our life's challenges into consideration. I always tell my kids that God only expects us to do our best, and if our best falls a bit short, it will be okay. You have done your best, Cody, and I think some mercy will be given when that days comes and you face God. I truly believe that some people's minds are 'wired' a bit differently and as hard as you have tried not to feel the way you do about Jonah, there is little you can do.

"...the point I want to make is that should you decide to stay with Jonah and let that be your life's choice, I think God will still have room for you in his kingdom. He loves you and knows of your struggle. One day, things will be made right..."

Whether her words are simply comforting to me, they really rang true when I read them today (and do so now as I reread them). I really feel like I'm destined for a different path at this juncture of my life and that things are going to be okay. I also think it's no coincidence that Lisa has come back into my life at this particular time and delievered these particular words to me. I really think it means something.

Another friend, very active in the church and very intelligent, said something that I felt God wanted me to hear. She said, "I really think there is more to it than we really understand." She was referring to the gospel and life, but not in application to my particular issue, but something about it really resonated with me as far as my issues go. I can't explain it; I just felt a certain truth that is helping me feel more at ease about things.

Back to Lisa. As I said in my previous post about her, she has a mental illness, and in catching me up on the events of her life since we last communicated, she explained all the horrific realities she has had to face in her life because of her illness, and I was just overwhelmed by it all. Just as other people can't fully understand what I go through with my problems, her issues are unfathomable to me. When I've read what she and her family have had to deal with I was saying to myself, "I'm so glad I have gay feelings and don't have her problems." She's doing reasonably well, but it made me think that if we had gotten married like we planned, it would have been a disaster. A bisexual and a manic-depressive; what a Molotov cocktail that would have made. I know my nature, and I really don't think I would have handled her issues well at all. My issues would have probably been difficult for her as well. I give great kudos to her husband. He has stood by her through a lot of awful stuff. I know it's been incredibly difficult for both of them.

I remember when she broke it off with me and how unfair I thought it was and how I could never imagine finding someone that I loved as much as I felt I loved her. Now in retrospect I'm so incredibly glad things worked out the way they did; for both of our sakes. It just shows me that God knows every facet from beginning to end, and that's one reason why I believe that this relationship is the right things for me in spite of the fact that it seems to be contradictory as far as what I know to be true. There is something I will glean from all of this that will draw me closer to my Father in Heaven. I just feel it. I can't explain it, and I know there will be naysayers who think I'm delusional, but the only people who can really know the path I need to take are me and the Lord. I just feel I have been led to this place in my life and this relationship, and I am going to count the blessings I have because of it all.

Anyway, that's it for now.

My Dad, My Mission, and Other Stuff

Foxx recently wrote a post about his dad, and I felt inspired to write some words about my own father. I know one of the theories about what causes homosexuality has to do with a boy's relationship (or lack thereof) with his dad. Whether this theory is valid or not, I'd like to share what my relationship with my dad was.

I loved my dad very much. He was kind and affectionate, a hard worker, a devoted family man, a man with a strong testimony of the church, a good example to others, and very loyal and honest. He was also very quiet and unassuming. And it wasn't really until he died that I realized I didn't really know very much about him. I mean to say, I didn't know who he was inside, what he thought or felt, or even much about his history. I can tell you a whole bunch of stories about my mom that she has told me about her childhood, adolescence, early married years, etc., but my dad didn't talk a whole lot, and so I only know about him more through what my mom has told me rather than what he told me himself.

One of my traits that I picked up from my dad was that he often kept everything bottled up inside. If he was angry or upset or unhappy, he never really made it known. He just kept it to himself. Like me, too, he wasn't a very emotional man. You rarely ever saw him cry or get upset, but boy, when he did, watch out! I can literally count on my right hand the number of times I saw my dad get really angry, and all three of those times his anger was justified. One of those times he slapped me, and looking back I deserved it. I was being mouthy and selfish, and he slapped me, and I was much more shocked than anything because I had never seen my dad so angry, and I quickly realized I had crossed a line. But for the most part, my dad was a very quiet meek and mannered guy. I literally cannot remember ever seeing my parents fight. I recall a couple of times when they disagreed on something, but they always did it in such a calm, reasonable way.

In the last years of his life my dad suffered a series of strokes that turned him into a much different person than the dad I grew up with. I really think the strokes were due to his always keeping everything bottled up inside. I think it was his body's way of dealing with it. Emotionally, my dad became a very different person as a result of the strokes. He could no longer control his emotions. If something made him cry, he would sob uncontrollably. If something made him laugh, he would laugh really hard and drool because he couldn't control his saliva. At first, it was very disconcerting to see my dad act in this manner because it wasn't the dad I was used to, and I admit (I was in my late teens) I didn't want to be around him. At the time, I was very bitter that God had struck my dad down with this disease and was scared of this "new dad."

I remember one time my mom and dad were driving me to college, and I was talking about how upset I was that my dad had to deal with these strokes, and my dad said, in actuality, the strokes were a blessing because it allowed to him to leave a job he didn't like (which I had never really known until then) and collect disability. He said it gave him more time to be with his family (because my dad was kind of a workaholic), too. It put things in a new perspective for me.

As I continued college, my dad's strokes got worse. His speech and balance were seriously impaired, and he couldn't walk very well. Although his mind was perfectly functional, his sense of time was impaired. For example, you would ask him what he was watching on TV, and he would give you the answer ten minutes later. He would be right, but there was a delay.

It was frustrating to see my dad's health deteriorate, but I realized it could have been worse. I began to appreciate the dad I had rather than lament the dad I had lost. And, frankly, there were many things I liked about the "new dad." I liked that he was more emotional, that he actually had feelings he wasn't trying to hide. I liked that he was around more.

I remember during my bitter phase I had a dream that I was in a car, and my dad was pounding on the windows trying to get in, and I was scared, so I took off, and my dad was running behind me, and I kept driving, and he clutched his heart and collapsed, and I just kept going. I woke up, very disturbed because I thought to myself, "I would never leave my dad to die like that," and then I realized that emotionally I was abandoning him just as surely as I was physically abandoning him in my dream.

My dad was an active member of the LDS Church as long as I knew him and was very devoted and loyal. At this time in my life (when my dad was having his health problems), I was inactive and actually quite bitter towards the church because I was dealing with my homosexual issues. I was somewhat estranged from my family.

In August of 1991, I had an experience which I've already alluded to here which changed the course of my life drastically. I became active in the Church and served a mission. By the time I had my farewell (that's a church meeting to send off a missionary for all of you who don't know Mormon-speak), my dad's speech was severely impaired, but I asked him to speak at the meeting. He (with the help of my mom) dictated and typed his talk. At the meeting, he was so emotional, he was unable to get through the talk, so I read it, and my dad, weeping, said, "Thank you." It was a spiritual experience that I can't really explain here.

One thing that has always made me proud was that my dad got to see me become active again and serve a mission before he died. And I did it on my terms. I didn't serve a mission because I was expected to (as many missionaries do), but because I really wanted to. The icing on the cake was that my dad got to see me do it.

When my family saw me off at the airport, I gave my dad a hug and felt the distinct impression that I would not see my dad in this life again, which at the time I shrugged off because he was actually doing better at that particular moment. But, sure enough, five months later my dad became very ill, and a month after that he died of pneumonia. In a way, I was glad I didn't have to be there to witness the suffering and decay. People always ask me if it was hard to stay on my mission when my dad was so ill, but I think I actually got off easier than the family members who remained at home.

Shortly before my dad died, I composed a song which I sent him and he heard. It's not a very well crafted song lyrically, but it was what I felt at the time, and I think it gets to the heart of who my dad was. It's called "Matchless Hero."

"Knights who fight dragons,
Soldiers who fight wars,
Explorers who tread jungles and such
Have nothing to boast of;
They've nothing on
The hero that I love so much.
Men who climb mountains
Or cross the stormy seas,
Men who lift tremendous weights
With the greatest of ease;
There is no comparison
Among any of these.
My hero matches them all.
The others fall.

My dear hero,
How I miss you.
You and I are worlds away.
Did you know that
You're my hero.
It's the "verité."
You never did anything especially noteworthy.
Your name was never in the news.
Flocks of people never hounded you for your autograph.
You never sang the blues.
You never won a Nobel Peace Prize,
A Grammy, or a medal of gold.
You never appeared on Johnny Carson.
You never fought blizzards of cold.
You were never on the front lines of Vietnam.
You were never Prince Charming at the ball.
You were never ruler of the universe,
But your my greatest hero of all.

I love you,
Not for your massive feats,
But for the simple things you did.
You climbed the highest mountains.
You waged the strongest wars.
You won the greatest battles.
For you, Dad, my heart soars.
Your courage, your endurance,
Your patience through the pain
Have shown me the example.
Of you I can't complain.
For you're my admiration.
Now all is said and done.
I love you, my father.
Your son."

I guess my point is this: my dad was a simple, average man. But he was a good man, and he taught me a lot of good principles and gave me a lot of love. Because I'm an actor, I always compare my dad to the "behind-the-scenes" guys. They don't get the kudos the actors get, but they're just as important to the success of the show. That's kind of who my dad was. He was back in the shadows, but his influence on my life has been remarkable. I owe much to him, and I am grateful for him.

It's weird, though, when I came back home from my mission 17 months after he died, I never really felt like I really mourned his death. It's like, he was there when I left, and when I came back, he wasn't. It seemed unreal. The only moment I really mourned was on my mission in church one Sunday after bearing my testimony and talking about my father, I cried and continued crying after I sat down. A friend put his hand on my shoulder, and I closed my eyes and would have swore that my dad's hand was on my shoulder as well. I like to believe it was.

Now and then, when I hear a country song, I get a little misty for my dad. But I know I'll see him again when this life is through.

Speaking of my mission, I served in France, and a friend who still lives there and I have remained close. After telling him about Jonah and me, he responded with a very nice letter a couple of months ago which I wanted to share. I've translated it from its original French, so if some of the structure seems odd, that's why.

He writes:

Dear Cody,

I was touched to learn that you had feelings for someone and that it was mutual. Even if I can't truly put myself in your place, I can feel the dilemma that you face. I can just understand you and appreciate you without giving you advice, for whatever your position or decision is, that can lead to frustration, guilt, or simply uneasiness. I'm not certain what God truly thinks about this subject. If this man sincerely loves you, if it's mutual, if you are attracted to one another, and if you bring each other happiness, I suppose that it's still love, right? God knows it, too. I have no desire to encourage you to transgress a rule of the Church, but I find it sad to let a love story pass one by. Certain people assume more or less this reality. Maybe I've already told you this, but I have a French friend who lives in the U.S. He is a member of the Church, he has been married and has four children. After his divorce, he met another man and they decided to live together. That isn't to say that things are necessarily easy, but he seems to be happy in his situation. Faithfulness and honesty seem to me to be the essential elements in a relationship, maybe even more than sexual orientation. And yet, you also know that I am totally heterosexual and that I'm really attached to the principles of the Church even if I no longer practice my religion. But life teaches me to be more tolerant. Besides, it was in a Priesthood meeting that I was taught that it was simply preferable to seek to understand rather than to judge. I now try to put this commonplace phrase into practice even if it is difficult, knowing at the same time that one cannot tolerate everything. Therefore I can only tell you what I've already told you: you are my friend, and my only wish is for you to be happy, whatever your situation, so long as you aren't doing evil to your fellow man. If you think that it's more important to follow the rules of the Church for your development, that's okay, too. Dear Cody, I hope that you are doing well in spite of your last letter. I wish you a lot of courage and wisdom and as always, much passion for what you love to do.

Love,

Your friend,

Floris.

Wise words from a good friend.

Jonah and I are doing well. We are separated due to work conditions, but we talk to each other often. He sent me flowers for my opening night. People asked me who they were from, and I just said, "a friend." I later told Jonah I felt bad that I wasn't brave enough to shout our love from the rooftops (as I felt like doing). He said it was okay, that I'm going through a lot of new experiences now, and that he's been there himself and knows exactly how it is. "Besides," he said, "it's nobody's business anyway." He's an incredibly patient, understanding, and thoughtful guy.

I've been feeling really troubled by the incident at BYU recently which you can read about here. I mean, the Church is clear on its policies, and Mr. Nielsen surely had to know what was coming, but it still bothers me. We're taught so much about free agency, but you can't make choices if you don't have them, and I've always felt that BYU works really hard at only allowing one viewpoint to exist, and I find many of the people in Utah County to be some of the most narrow-minded hypocrites I've known in my life. I understand that their our consequences for our choices, and unfortunately for Mr. Nielsen, his choice led to his dismissal. I know BYU is, and always has been, different from other colleges, but I think the university setting should be a safe haven for the free exchange of ideas. I realize that isn't what BYU is. I guess if a person is going to criticize their boss in a public forum, they're going to have to risk losing their job, but it still troubles me.

I still maintain that I believe the Church is true, but I also will say the leaders of the Church do not know how to deal with the issue of homosexuality. They try their best, I think, and do so in a well-intentioned way, but they really don't know how to handle the problem that is before them. I don't know the answers, either, but it's frustrating for so many of us to be told to do certain things and to do them and still be right where we've always been. Only God knows our hearts and can truly understand what we're going through.

Whew! That's a lot of thoughts. Hope I didn't bore any of you to death.