Two letters

Hey Johnny,

Just wanted to see how you're doing. I'm doing well, maybe not by most standards though. I recently parted ways with a steady companion of 15 years, alcohol. Not an easy thing. My bank account is negative, lawyers and collection agencies are after me for unpaid debts. I live in an apartment with almost no furniture. The rent is due next week. I don't have it. I don't have a girlfriend, and haven't been on a date since last year, I've been dealing with some health issues, I'm on dangerous ground in my career. My greatest dream was to meet "her", and have a beautiful family. I'm getting closer to 40, and the window of opportunity is quickly closing on that, and that scares me, and makes me sad.

But, despite all of it, I am doing incredibly well. At my age, people expect me to be at a different place in life, but their expecations, and focus are on the outward appearance of things. It all starts with the spirit. I chose to follow my own path, and I have not held my life to the same timeline as others. In everything I have done until now, in all the living I have done to this point, my goal was nothing more than to lay a foundation upon which the greatest achievements will rise later.

It's all in the spirit. I knew, when I set out on the path I had decided to walk, that no one around me would understand it. They would not comprehend it. I knew there would be laughter and ridicule. I knew there would be contempt and hate. I knew I would be considered a fool. I knew I would have to endure that these many years. To be a pariah, to be hated. No one to talk to, because there would be no one able to understand. I would be walking alone. I anticipated all of it. I was still a teenager then. I set out into that "wilderness" those many years ago, willing to face it, knowing I would either pass the test or die trying. My vision was that in my mid thirties, I would finally find the end of that path, and my real life would begin.

Now is the time. I have walked "through the valley of the shadow of death" I am almost 40 years old, and only now do I consider myself a man. I did it. I passed all of the tests. I did not lose myself, not even close. I have passed through the fire, and all that is good in me has been tempered by the heat. My spirit is strong, unshakeable. Now I can really begin my life. I am flying.

I am not in a position financially, or materially, that many in this society would consider impressive for a man of my age, but they don't know what I know. They are only able to see a very small part of a great work. Most likely they will never be able to see it, never be able to understand it .I can't bee too concerned with the judgments of these men.

You, being a sappy, overly emotional, melodramatic guy like myself, will understand all of this I'm sure. ha ha. Just kidding. Don't judge yourself by the same, faulty standards used by small men, of which there are many in this society. You just have to give them a smile, knowing that they can't help it, that they are just in a different stage of their spiritual development.

I suddenly got the urge to write you tonight. I'm not sure why. This letter is not what I expected. I began to write, and the words and thoughts just came, as if the letter wrote itself. I can only think that your present position in life could be considered very similar to my own in many respects. I see it all as a time of rebirth.

I hope you are doing well. Choose to fly my friend,

Evan 

Evan,
I've actually been trying to write this for about five months, ever since the anniversary of your passing. I don't know why it's so hard anymore to write about you. After you died, I probably wrote about you at least twenty times. But it's been different the last couple of years. Probably because I am different as well. I've had to find a way to move forward, and that's not always easy. It's not easy when you have a friend, a brother, that left a shadow as big as yours. That touched so many lives, and left so many memories.
How am I doing? It's hard to say. Like you, I am my own worst critic. Regardless of what I may do that seems positive, it's hard to let myself feel like it's enough. Compared to where I was when I came to Dallas, I am in a much better place, but it never seems to be enough. I still have a lot of debt, still trying to build my private business as a trainer, and still painfully single. Like you, I hoped that was a void that would have been filled a long time ago, but I am actually starting to understand better now why it hasn't happened. It's like you said in your letter, I have "walked through the valley" and only now do I consider myself a man. Of course, I'm almost 50 now, not 40. I don't know that I didn't lose part of myself, because only now do I realize who I am as a man.
I am still a "sappy, overly emotional" guy, but a lot less melodramatic than the old days lol. But I realize also that I am passionate, hard headed, loyal, and a big nerd at heart. Things I really didn't understand about myself. I realize that I survived a background that many people wouldn't. And I realize that I at least should respect myself for that much. And if Dallas has taught me anything, it's that I am a survivor. Depression is still a factor in my life, but I am fighting everyday.
I think I also realized just how much anger I have carried. Not just in my life in general, but at you. I was angry at how you beat yourself up, how you felt sorry for your self, and how you underestimated yourself. But mostly, I was angry at you leaving so soon. Really fucking angry. And envious.
Envious at the stories so many other people had to tell about you. About training with you, being roommates with you, seeing the world with you. I have been envious because I really don't have a lot of those stories. It almost makes no sense how close we became with so little time really spent doing stuff together. I guess we can just chalk it up to being two kindred spirits. I never knew the specifics of your story, because I didn't need to. Just from the most basic details you gave me, I could piece it together. Because survivors always know other survivors. Come to find out our upbringing was nearly identical in many ways. But we both kind of knew that already, didn't we? Because survivors always know.
In a funny way, I think you'd be happy for me not being able to write so much about you anymore. Because you know how much I needed to move forward. I hate when people say "get over" something, because that's just dumb. You can't get over someone's death. Especially your big brother's. A death is not like losing a job, or getting divorced. Believe me, because I've done both. You don't just "get over it". You have to integrate it into your life. Learn to live with it. But, life does get better.
I got that last part from a comic book. Like I said, nerd.
But I have done my best to move forward, and I think that's what you'd have wanted.

Of course, that doesn't mean I don't still talk about you. Or brag, as some people might say. I'm sure some people are pretty sick of  hearing me talk about you lol, but I don't care. I'm proud to say you were my friend and my brother. I'm proud that the kid that stuck up for me when someone was trying to kick my ass because UFC champion. I'm proud that he became a man that people admired. And I am proud that he became a person that would be missed by so many.
What's next for me? It's hard to say. I think I am a pretty good trainer, but I don't know if that's what I want to do with the rest of my life. I have started taking acting lessons. I am also desperately trying to learn to play guitar, but that "worst critic" in me makes it hard sometimes. I am also starting to write more, finally. Because some people seem to think that being a survivor gives me a lot to say. I guess we will see.
Like I said, I've been trying to write this for a while. As usual, it took your words to actually inspire me to finally get to it. But I am glad to finally get these things out. I am so grateful for you. I guess some of my anger is in never getting to tell you that. You probably toughened me up as a kid. Made me believe in having goals. And made me believe in working my ass off for them. Grateful you were my friend, and my brother. And hoping that I do you proud.
Love you brother.

Still flying,

Johnny