He lies sleeping peacefully now and I can finally see that the healing process is almost finished. Though it is done I worry for him. What memories have replayed in the dark recesses of his mind while he was in the coma? What sort of creature will be revealed when he finally awakes? Am I afraid for him or am I being selfish? What if he doesn't love me anymore?

I can recall so many days when I feared for him, but he always returned to me. Yet there was never a time like this when death took him so close to the threshold. Oh, he murmurs in his sleep and I long to hear that clear sweet voice again. Can it ever be the same for us now?

I have been writing his story for the past three months, ever since he left me alone with my thoughts. Hard words between us made me reflect upon what we were trying to accomplish together. Filling these pages with the events and feelings we both shared has been the hardest thing I have ever done. And only now do I realize it can never be finished.

"You have always been the strong one and from now on he will need you more than ever."

Namkhai, the gentle Buddhist monk, had spoken those words barely an hour ago. I had watched as his touch confirmed a wondrous healing to the shattered body lying before me. Through a curtain of tears, I had marveled at the healing process, a gift that I myself had once received. But as I turned to give thanks I found that he had vanished, leaving me amazed by the power in those hands. But I should know better than to question these things after all I have seen.

Alan sleeps and I smile at him with these thoughts. If nothing else, the past year has taught me that this relationship was preordained. I cannot imagine my life without him, yet I came so close to losing him that I still have that grip of fear around my heart. The guilt of those tumultuous days between us still rides heavily on my shoulders and somehow I was powerless to change the course of his life…until now.

I imagine he will awaken confused and helpless. I was shocked to find all his golden hair shaved away. But the scar that had cut a jagged line of livid flesh across his forehead is gone as well. There will be no physical reminders of this episode. Only I will remember for him.

His beautiful eyes will still be a crystal blue, like the gentle ocean waves that sparkle as they roll onto our favorite beach. Alas, a place we may never see again. He has paid a heavy price for this folly…and still I love him more than anything else in this life.

I am now certain that all the years lived since I was born were made to prepare me for this one incredible moment. Every creature in the universe has a purpose for existing and as humans we are the most fortunate because we can understand this concept.

I have thought a great deal about the moment he awakens and what words I should use to welcome him back. But I don't know if he will even remember me. That is why I have written this story, as a reminder of his past and our young life together.

But I have promised Namkhai never to reveal it to him. Maybe when we are old and gray, when our existence in this cycle of life is nearly done, I will show him what might have been. By then it will not matter, we will have reached the end of this life together.

Holding his hand, I feel a slight trembling in his body. He must be nearing the surface of consciousness. A surge of joy has brought tears to my eyes again. Even though I didn't want him to see me crying, I can't help myself. There has been so much pain between us but I am just relieved that he is still alive.

His eyelids flutter in the stillness of this darkened room and suddenly they are open. He lets out a long breath and then fills his lungs with a gasp, as if he has been underwater for too long. I feel his body shudder as he slowly turns his head to me.

"Welcome back," I whisper, my voice tight with emotion," I love you so much."

He's looking up at me, his gaze full of confusion, helpless to understand what has happened. I break down and sob when his hand gently squeezes mine, realizing it must take all his strength to accomplish this small task and yet he did it for me.

"I love you…I love you," I cry.

His voice when he speaks is raspy and dry, his vocal cords strain as he wheezes out the only words I ever wanted to hear.

"I…love…you…too."

I lay my head on his chest and cry, my tears flowing freely with the joy of knowing that he is back and that we still have love. I feel his hand begin to stroke the back of my neck and then it relaxes, sliding down on the sheet as he falls back asleep.

There is a point in every man's life when change occurs. The youthful boy submerges and the adult man swims free. Alan has reached that point and so have I. There will be daunting challenges ahead but we will not face them alone.

Karma, good fortune, whatever it is called, has smiled upon us. With the support of family, both gay and biological, and of our good friends, there is no limit to the lives we shall seek.

I look at his face now and can see the difference. There is a slight smile on his lips. He will sleep through the night but I will stay here beside him in case he wakes.

Tomorrow we can begin our lives together all over again. Only this time he will have no power to control me except through his love. No, this time we will share life equally and have time to grow old as the Wheel of Life turns yet again. In this we have truly crossed the greatest river of our time, and looking back I know it will never be the same.



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Singer Without a Song is © 2005 - 2006 by Chris James.
    This work may not be duplicated in any form (physical, electronic, audio, or otherwise) without the author's written permission. All applicable copyright laws apply. All individuals depicted are fictional with any resemblance to real persons being purely coincidental.


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