I Don’t Know
What the darkness is
Posted by aplecompte on January 9th, 2010
When my older brother committed suicide I was 19 and my world fell apart. He was my idol and my hero. He alone made sense to me in an alcoholic household. My whole belief system seemed to collapse with his death. I felt I no longer knew anything about life, except that I didn’t fit in it. Depressed, I hitchhiked around Europe for a few months, then took the ferry over to Tangiers, intent on crawling off, perhaps to die.
The main square in Marrakesh was surreally bright, hot and almost completely deserted in the middle of the day. In the distance I heard the light tinkle of laughter. It was such a free and breezy sound I was drawn toward it. I found an American couple trying to communicate with a Moroccan electrician who spoke French, Berber and Arabic, but no English. Yet they were all not only good-natured about their misunderstandings, they were really enjoying them. Michael and Lee would slowly ask “Joe” a question. He would pause a second, then earnestly reply. They would look at each other with puzzled faces, make playful guesses about what they thought he said, and burst out laughing. He would laugh too. They were walking slowly along having a great time and getting nowhere.
It was irresistible. I spoke French and could see another level of humor they were missing. I asked if I could join them and they welcomed me. And sure enough, now I could make jokes with Joe that they couldn’t get. The two of us would start to laugh and all four of us would laugh at the situation. Then the three of us would laugh at something in English, I’d explain it in French to Joe and we’d all laugh again; Joe would add something to me and we were off again. What a riot. Joe took three days off from work to guide us all over town.
A week or so later I was lying face down on a skinny hotel bed in Casablanca, feeling like shit, in anticipation of taking the train to Algeria. I was back dragging along after the crawl-off-and-die idea. But it had just now lost its appeal; I was dreading it. I think I asked for a way out.
Then, in the distance, I heard Michael’s cheerful voice echoing up the stairs and down the hall, “Where’s Andy?” My heart leapt! I couldn’t believe they’d actually found me. Before they’d set off for Taroudant they’d suggested, in the unlikely event our paths crossed again, that we could meet at a bar in Casablanca owned by a friend of Joe’s. I’d stopped there and there was no sign of them; but in a futile just-in-case gesture, I left a note with the bartender that I was not where I had said I’d be. And they’d found me! I was the happiest man alive! We spent several delightful days together and I forgot all about Algeria.
The Holy Spirit is always present. When I let go of the “I know” mind and ask for help, He answers the prayer of my heart.
Tags: Love
