I was watching a movie the other day . . . Elizabethtown . . . for maybe the third time, possibly the fourth. For a variety of reasons that movie touches me, reasons I don’t need to go into at this point, in this place . . . but there was one scene where the girl tells the guy to go take his trip and allow sweet melancholy to overtake him.
That line has always stayed with me. I just love that phrase “sweet melancholy.”
Many of you know I’m a recovering alcoholic. In November I will celebrate thirteen years of sobriety, and one thing I have learned over those thirteen years is that I need to avoid depression. I cannot allow my mind to dive back into the deep pools of darkness. For me it is a matter of survival.
But I can allow sweet melancholy, and that is what I’m feeling now.
A little over a week ago I made an unplanned trip down to Ashland, Oregon, to see my best friend Frank. When I say “best friend” it is a bit weak in describing him. “Brother” would be closer to the truth. I have known him since 1962 and I truly love him like a brother. He is one of the few people on this planet I feel at ease with, and one of the few people I can be myself around.
Frank is dying. He was diagnosed with spinal cancer four years ago, and a few weeks ago he called me and told me we are now down to weeks rather than months.
So I made the trip to Ashand to see my brother and to say goodbye to him.
Sweet melancholy!
We sat as old friends sit, and we reminisced. We laughed about shared memories, and we cried. We found the time to tell each other how important we were to each other, and we expressed sincere gratitude for the connection.
And then it was time to go, and I said goodbye!
It is so rare that we humans make that kind of deep connection with another human being. I am grateful and blessed that I found it with Frank. I am grateful and blessed that I can write about this without wanting to drink.
I am grateful for sweet melancholy.
Bill
“Helping writers to spread their wings and fly.”
Billybuc
Artistry With Words 