Response to “It’s Over.” (this piece was published a few weeks ago - read it first if you have't yet.)
Copyright 2009, aaron paul lazar
When I found you that morning in the barn – your neck encircled in that rope, all purple and swollen – you were barely breathing. If it hadn’t been for that rotten beam, you would have died, my friend. It makes me shudder just to think of the horrible possibility.
If you had been successful… I hate to think of it. Never again would we sit in your glider, admiring your beautiful flower gardens, and exploring deep thoughts that pass the time so pleasantly. My heart breaks to think of that ending.
Why didn’t you call me? Why didn’t you tell me you were sad? And why didn’t I notice when we sat and talked in front of your woodstove drinking your superb Riesling and chatting about art? I hadn’t the slightest hint of your inner demons, and you know I pride myself on being observant of human nature.
You have so much to offer the world. Your kinds eyes and gentle manner have soothed many a child. I brag about your sumptuous gardens to all my friends. You have a superb eye for photography and I know someday you’ll be world-renowned, with a coffee table book filled with amazing photographs of the wild.
But most of all, you are a writer who enthralls, thrills, comforts, and teaches. I fell in love with your characters in your first book, and it’s still my favorite. I know some day your books will line the shelves of bookstores world wide, and that they’ll fill people’s homes and hearts. That’s why I keep your books locked in ziplock bags and put them away for safety. I know they’ll be treasures in the future. It frustrates me to no end that you haven’t been “discovered” yet, at least in the best-seller realm.
I know you’ve been worried about the job hunt. I’ve been so worried that you’ll jump in a new direction that won’t support your primary role as an author. That would not be good for you, or the world. It would be a disaster! Sure, you’d be good at all those things you keep thinking up, but what you are is a writer! Now’s the time to prove that to the agents, to push like hell and get them to recognize your value! Please don’t let the job hunt interfere with your true calling.
As I sit here by your hospital bed and watch you struggle to breathe, I feel like the world’s worst failure. What could I have done to have prevented this?
PS Did I ever tell you that you're my best friend in the world?
Note: This is the response to the piece I posted a few weeks ago from the man who was literally at his rope's end. I wrote it to illustrate how communication is so often lost between two people, and how misinterpretations can lead to horrific endings. Let me know you think, below.