It was time; there was no choice but to go. My last cigarette has been burned and I needed a Starbucks. Because Starbucks had a political agenda I don’t agree with, I’d sworn to stay away.

But reality is never so clear. Sometimes you have to think beyond the immediate circumstances. You have to consider how your view can affect others, and through the last decade, I have become friends with the people who work there. Do I really want to hurt them because of politics?

They depend on return clientele and the tips the regulars give. It’s their only income.

After a long night and a rough few hours of sleep filled with nightmares, I needed nicotine and caffeine.

Both have contributed to my impending death. I am aware that stopping now probably will not extend my life, but I still should make a better show for myself by being stronger.

The walk up the path was painful. It always is because it’s uphill all the way. My calves cramp and scream for me to give them a break. That’s not optional. I stand and gaze into the woods and consider how beautiful nature really is and ask myself how I have lived so long without appreciating it more.

Such thoughts are self-accusatory and too harsh. We can’t hold ourselves responsible for every single thing we never learned until the present.

Don’t do this to yourself. It isn’t fair, and worse, it is a lie. Only one human ever lived who was without sin or failings, and we are not him.

The weather, apart from the wind, was nice. It’s been a good day.

Nothing really happened as I smoked my Marlboro and drank my blond roast, sitting there on my usual bench. I’m too predictable.

People came and went. But I greeted more of them than I usually would. It wasn’t that I was in a particularly good mood; I was, but my body told my brain to shut the fuck up, stare at the ground and ignore everything around me. This kind of pain is extraordinary. There’s no cure. There’s moderation in the form of Tylenol and aspirin, but as grateful as I am for it, the relief is short-lived and almost a joke.

I managed to get smiles as I nodded or said hello to passersby. That’s a better pain reliever than morphine. Although, sometimes, I wouldn’t turn down some morphine. Old men hurt, though, it is our job. I do the best I can.

Well, sometimes I do. Sometimes the best that I can do is to do nothing at all. It’s not a good feeling. At the end of one of my nothing at all days, I feel empty and the stigma I get from others becomes a weapon I relentlessly beat myself with.

Mental illness isn’t fair. I’ve asked God about this before. He’s not talking. The answer is clear then: “you figure it out. I never gave you any message in my written word that anything is fair. I didn’t beat and abuse you, I didn’t cause your addictions, because none were mine to give you. And do you really believe that I wanted you to be so hurt? Don’t you know that I was there, and I knew your pain, counted every year, and wanted you to live so you could tell others that there’s always hope? My children aren’t promised anything except that I love them, I will help but I seldom interfere, and that faith in me and my only son can bring you to me forever. That’s it. The rest is up to you.”

And a funny thing is, I can often tell when others pray in earnest for me. I can’t describe it. I won’t try to, but let’s say it’s really a big deal. So I live on, and some days, I have less misery despite physical pain.

I saw Kenny on my way back. He is a neighbor who lived near Harry, my friend who passed away not long ago. Kenny is a nice guy. He has troubles, health problems and pain too, but aside from giving me an update, he didn’t dwell on it. He said he was worried about me because he hadn’t seen me in a while. He was glad to see me and I told him I’m always happy to see him. A fist bump in parting: brothers who love unconditionally and don’t need to speak it.

The walk home was different. It’s downhill all the way, but I actually managed to keep up an Army cadence. Jody always comes to mind:: in Basic Training Jody was bedding my all too willing ex-wife. The Jody cadence songs still anger me.

It’s okay. Everything is as it should be.

We’re facing hardships that no one saw coming. Not like these anyway.

But I do not hate. I can’t hate Donald Trump or any other living person. Jesus warned us about hate. What it does to the soul. He said to love others  despite what they do to you.

I can hate the deeds of another, but I have to hate my own as well, or I’m a hypocrite. I have to ask for forgiveness or I am a hypocrite. I am above no one.

It’s important that I get out, have a cup of joe and interact with live people, because the Internet isn’t enough. Even amongst social media friends, one can feel alone and secluded. I don’t need to strike up a conversation to have someone make my day better, or for me to help them feel better, which I hope I’ve done. It could be that just by greeting a stranger, you make a person rethink their value and come up with a positive answer. That is a gift. A superpower. A miracle.

There’s nothing here that makes for a compelling or even a good read. I’m sorry for that.

All I want you to know is that there is always hope. Get out into the air, into nature, even if it’s just a park in your city. There, you’ll find others whom you need in the moment, or who need you. Friendships, even romances begin that way. You don’t bring up politics, neither one of you are there for that. And religion can be left for a later time.

Just talk to God when you’re alone. Address him as your father, because that’s what he is. I use the informal and more personal “Abba,” which comes out more like “Daddy,” because no matter how high up or how far away others think he is, your father loves you as his child.

During this Passover and Good Friday week, I wish for you all a peaceful time full of joy and hope.

Take a walk. Reach out. Pray. Be well.