One of the recurring themes running throughout my favorite show Lost is the question of fate vs. free will. I read Abel Keough's blog regularly. I sort of stumbled across his blog in 2002 or 2003, not long after TB and I got married. At that time, Abel's Blog was at a different URL and was called "A Young Widower's Tale". Happily, he met, married and now has a family with his second wife, Marathon Girl. Anyway, after the most recent episode of Lost Abel wrote "I don't believe in fate" but then went on to say "... it seemed like some invisible hand kept pushing Marathon Girl and I together no matter how many mistakes and dumb decisions we made."
I've been thinking a lot about the episode and about Abel's post. I know that God gave us free will. Sometimes when you choice a certain path, you can pretty much predict what the outcome will be good or bad. Was it fated to happen? I mean, even though we have free will are we programmed to make certain choices so that there is a particular outcome? I don't know.
I do have a couple of "meant to be" type stories though. Way back in 1983, I was in a disintegrating relationship with a jerk. I wasn't ready to let him go because I was in love with him. I was a freelance interpreter then and had met him almost 2 years earlier at one of my assignments. I remember it was June or July of 1983 and I'd just started a summer job for a market research firm. Interpreting assignments were very hard to come by in the summers. I worked from 4 p.m. to 1 a.m. at this part time job several nights a week. When I wasn't working, I'd often listen to a call in radio talk show.
Well, this one particular night the host had a psychic (stop rolling your eyes!) as his guest. The psychic was going to answer any question you wanted. The only information he needed was your birthday and that of your significant other. I'd heard psychics on other talk shows before and it never meant anything to me but this evening I felt like I had to get through and talk to the guy. I wanted to know if my relationship was going anywhere or should I move on? Of course, the line was busy all night but I kept trying.
Finally, five minutes before the show ended, I got through. The host put me on hold right away and I ground my teeth in frustration. I was just about in tears when I heard the music for the show signing off. But then the host came on and said that the psychic was going to talk to me, even though the show was now off the air. Wow! Nervously, I gave the psychic my birthdate and that of my then boyfriend.
I really wasn't very surprised when the psychic said this relationship was going nowhere and that the boyfriend didn't treat me nearly as well as I deserved. He then predicted that by fall--October or November--I would be in a new relationship, one with a man that I wouldn't be attracted to. I scoffed and the psychic said, listen, the men who are "your type" are no good for you--they will never give you the love and respect you deserve. The psychic said, give this man a chance because he is the one for you. Right.
The rest of the summer, I weaned myself off the boyfriend. It was depressing and very discouraging but luckily my friends and famiily were supportive. I made new friends at this part time job and since they didn't know my history, I could relax and just laugh at jokes, forgetting my pain for a while. I had 3 or 4 of these new buds.
In September, interpreting assignments began to come in but I decided I'd keep working weekends at this market research place. I could use the extra money.
One night toward the end of that month, I was one of the last to leave the building. I'd gotten a survey at the last minute and it went on beyond 1 a.m. All the interviewers already left and only the supervisor was left. I went quickly into the parking lot, eager to get out of there and was startled to find one of the editors leaning up against his car. He was one of my new buddies, a very tall, blonde blue-eyed guy with very thick glasses--someone fun to be with but definitely not my "type". I was attracted to guys who looked like pirates--like Clark Gable. Tall dark and handsome.
After I recovered my voice, I greeted my friend and asked what he was doing. And he replied, "I was waiting for you. I was wondering...do you want to go out?"
And as I was about to say no thanks, a little voice whispered: give the guy a chance.
Okay, so what was the harm? It's just a date, no big deal.
Of course, this shy friend who'd waited and waited for me to come out that night was Rich.
Meant to be?
But then why did he die?
And why did the next "meant to be" happen?
Once we knew how sick Rich was, he said "If anything ever happens to me, I'd want you to move on and love someone else and be happy again."
No no no, I said. No way! The very idea was repugnant. And after Rich passed, I felt I'd been blessed to have him in my life and a love like that only happens once in a lifetime. But then it happened again...and that story is coming up.
Posted by Cassie at February 20, 2007 02:37 PM | TrackBack