Every Whisper

The emotional tenor of any single day, for me, tends to revolve around a song. When I'm happy, it's a happy song; sad, a sad song, etc. But today, the song that played over and over in my head were fragments of R.E.M.'s "Losing My Religion."

That's me in the corner
That's me in the spot...light
Losing my religion
Trying to keep up with you
And I don't know if I can do it
Oh no, I've said too much

I haven't said enough
I thought that I heard you launghing
I thought that I heard you sing
I think, I thought, I saw you try
But that was just a dream...

The lyrics to that song are loaded. One of my favorite phrases is "every whisper." Over and over again the past few months, I've found myself living in a world of whispers, some sweet, some oh so cruel.

Some of the whispers that haunt me are of moments that cannot be relived. My father uttered no words, not even whispers, when he sat down next to me on the couch in my parents' mobile home on New Year's Day 1999.

There was something he wanted to show me, something I had no interest in seeing. It was often that way with us -- ships crossing in an ocean of silence -- even though we loved each other as only a child and parent know how to do.

I've often thought of that moment, the old man trying to get his son's attention; the son not wanting to give it.

There was no way I could have known that was our last chance to connect. A few days later, I was helping him let go after a massive stroke, helping him die, kissing him one last time.

Other whispers concern other losses, love lost. Did I ever say "I love you" enough times? Did I manage to pull all of my deepest feelings of love and affection out from their hiding place deep within my soul and make sure she knew?

This is not regret. This is not a foolish hope to undo history. This is my duty to myself to be emotionally honest, every day. If I didn't do it then, how can I do it now?

Sometimes lately, I know I have blurted out the phrase "I love you" to various friends, and it's taken some of them aback. It probably sounds crazy. But then I think of people I never said that to who now are gone. Friends who have died. I loved them too but I never told them.

Maybe one way to think about this is what a person wants to hold onto in his or her final moments. Nobody wants to die in a bitter or hateful mood; everyone wants to die, actually, with love.

I think this may be related to why my youngest and I have amassed a fairly large collection of romantic movies. While her brothers enjoy violent video games in one room, she and I watch movies that invariably make at least one of us cry.

There is a long list but our current favorite is "Definitely, Maybe." The star of that film is a little girl, a bit younger than mine, who asks her divorced father to tell her the story of his love life, and the women who've mattered to him.

As he narrates that story, he changes names and circumstances so that the girl will have to guess who her mother is, among the three women who have been his greatest loves.

But that is not what makes the movie a romance. Her parents have divorced, remember?

What makes the movie a romance is near the end when the little girl looks into her father's eyes and says, "Trust me, Dad, you are not happy."

After that, the movie celebrates the power of stories -- one of my recurring themes here on this blog. And, of course, it delivers a happy ending.

Despite a life filled with the opposite results, I believe with all of my fractured heart in the power of stories. Even in the face of no evidence whatsoever that this will be my fate, I still believe in happy endings.

I believe in love. I think it is very hard at times to sort everything out and stay trusting and open to finding our own happy endings. I also think that "happy" is a much more complicated idea than I did in the past.

We honor the "pursuit of happiness" in our Constitution. Therefore, by definition, all Americans agree to pursue happiness. As far as I know, no other people on earth share this odd goal.

Just us. Maybe we are all a nation of hopeless romantics. Maybe we are the people seeking happy endings, you know, the people everyone else around the world, so knowing and so cynical, make fun of.

The naive Americans, foolish and misguided.

Or just maybe we know something they don't know. And that is if you believe in happy endings, you also remain open to happy new beginnings.

Every story has its arc. No story is over until it is over. Hollywood wouldn't deliver romantic movies if there wasn't an audience. All businesses give their customers what they want. Otherwise, they go out of business.

The more I have considered other cultures, the more I have come to suspect their cynicism, their "realism." In fact, this is exactly what President Obama talked about tonight, that we are a nation of people who are not afraid to hope.

We may never find that happy ending. But we try to hear "every whisper," and we are not afraid to dream.

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BTW, in case you have not heard it lately, here's R.E.M. playing that song live: