Love is...

A very long time ago, when I was just twenty years old, I had this friend. He had been my best friend since I was sixteen years old. I loved him deeply, just not romantically. He was my good half, my rational half, the one who weighted me down when I was starting to get a bit flighty. He was my conscious, and my common sense. Seeing him or hearing his voice would bring so much light and joy into my world.

I had just gotten married, and my new husband was transferred to New Mexico. We flew, did the whole cross country thing to take his son to visit his mother. Then got a hotel room in NM, where we'd stay until base housing was ready for us. I called my friend, my light, my joy to tell him where we were and we got there okay.

His light was fading out. He was talking about things that really made me panic. I wanted so badly to be there, to hold him, and tell him everything would be fine. I wanted to be at his side, and help him to fight his demons just as he had done for me so many times before. I wanted to keep the darkness away.

I couldn't though. We were an entire country apart. I was extremely pregnant by this time, newly married, and no transportation or money of my own. I couldn't be there, but I knew deep down, that somebody had to be there. The knowledge was so deep, it chilled my bones. I knew that if something wasn't done, and fast, he'd be gone from us forever, and it would be my fault for doing nothing.

I did the hardest thing anyone can ever do. I picked up the phone and called his mother.

He was so very angry with me. Suddenly, I was one of the people that was out to get him. His parents were out to get him. His aunt and uncle who lived near him were out to get him. Everyone was out to get him. The darkness had gotten so bad, that a simple loving gesture was changed into this horrible thing. He said he could no longer trust me and never wanted to hear from me again.

My heart broke. It still breaks now when I think about it. I loved him, and still do. I don't know where he is, or if he made it out of that darkness. I don't know if he found his light again. But I do know one thing...

That sacrifice I made, I knew he'd be mad about. I knew he'd be angry that I had called for help for him. He told me how his parents were forcing him to go live with his aunt and uncle for a while. He told me how they'd contacted his CO.

You see, that's what love is. It's risking everything, even deep emotional friendship, for someone else's well being. In the state of mind that he was in, he thought everyone was against him.

We are now many, many years down the road. I've been several times, on that same path that he was on. I wish that somebody had cared enough about me back then to see the danger signs. I wish someone had made calls for me. And I hope like hell that my own two children have those deep interpersonal relationships when they grow up. I hope and pray that when their darkest days are upon them, one of their friends picks up the phone and says "Mrs. Kinzer: we have a problem!"

Nobody should ever feel alone, unloved, or unwanted. Once a person gets to the point that they feel the world is out to get them, it is an extremely dangerous situation. Love is knowing when the problem is bigger than you are, and calling for help.