Yes we had many great times didn’t we love but what you need to know my dear is that the times are not over In your deepest heart of hearts you and I share communion
–Scott, November 1996 Channeled Writing
FOLLOWING Dee’s suggestion, and Scott’s instruction, I continued reading carefully through his voluminous writings. He had indeed left a rich legacy in the written word, and some of his writings seemed to speak immediately to me in my current state of affairs. I first became aware of one special communication as I watched a video that had been made the day of the memorial gathering. After people had been given an opportunity to speak publicly and the eulogies delivered downstairs, the video camera was made available upstairs for anyone who had more to say in private. Scott’s dearest friend, Laura Beth Slobin, read to me from a letter he had written her early in 1993. What I heard took my breath away.
Laura had played a unique role in Scott’s life, throughout its phases. Originally a student in one of his English classes, their relationship blossomed over the years into one of deep friendship, creativity, and mutual inspiration. He took vicarious pleasure in her creative leaps as she moved to New York City to pursue her talent for writing, and in the adventures she found there. In two of the peak experiences of his life, Scott traveled there to act leading roles in plays she had written. I had never seen him more joyful, nor alive.
I am deeply biased, it’s true, but believe me when I tell you: the man could act. He really brought a stage to life. And all the world was his stage.
Visiting Laura in Amsterdam
Finally, the two co-authored a play called Aftershocks, an autobiographical tale reflecting the relationship between an HIV-positive schoolteacher painfully coming to terms with his disability and a former student dealing with shakeups in her own life, starting with an earthquake that had destroyed her home. Essentially the play dramatized the give and take of an evolving creative relationship, and during the months of its writing ideas and e-mail correspondence had flown back and forth in a frenzy of mutual creative inspiration. Now, on the video, I heard Laura read an excerpt from one of Scott’s letters.
Exactly when I was most thirsting for a message from him, these words reached me for the first time. Inspired by the scene in the movie Parting Glances (a pioneering film of the AIDS genre) in which the character Nick creates a videotaped "will" to be played as an impish “message from the hereafter" following his death, Scott had been moved to instead dash off this "script"as a message left for me. I’d had no idea:
I wanted to do this now while I still looked good…not as good as I once did of course, but I suppose that is the nature of the "problem"…anyway…HI, here I am…and you know I never have thought that I would spend any time at all at 33 years old making a last will and testament…but then 33 seems to be a good year for that…Jesus was 33 when he was crucified…Alexander the Great was 33 when he was felled…I’m in good company…Ugh! But death has a tendency to demand profundity…When I take stock of my "stuff" I realize that I have collected more experiences than tangible goods…and I think about so many people who have touched me and impacted me and loved me…boy that list goes on…and all the people I have loved, if only for a night or an hour…the experience has been a sensual one…Obviously, right!…Paul, honey, you have been the most sensual…you know my stomach still goes flip flop when I even think about your body and your smell…It’s kind of stupid really but you make me giddy…I can’t imagine my life without you…It has been such a completing experience…Those moments lying in bed at night before we drifted off to sleep with your leg thrown over me and feeling the rhythm of your breath…it was always so safe and comfortable…like you…my gift…You’ve had all of me and continue to possess me even now…
I found the entire message comforting, but the last sentence especially haunting. Was he now telling me that the spiritual fruits of our relationship continued, reminding me that our journey was still a two-way street? In my heart, I felt that indeed he was.
Despite the recurring dark anguish in my life, it seemed that as my path unfolded I was being given message after message, clue after miraculous clue, a key to every lock, just as I was ready to receive and to use them. I suppose spiritual awareness, like grief, is a process into which one must grow, sufficiently vast to require time for processing and for healing. A few weeks later, on a day that I very much needed to hear the message, I found the following entry in Scott’s journal, dated March 19, 1990. Written shortly after our meeting, penned during class at his teacher’s desk in the classroom he had showed me with pride the weekend before, his thoughts had wandered back to the memory of that sweet sharing. In a free-flowing language of love that I now heard with new ears, he wrote:
Your consciousness pervades and when I look at the floor I see that your spirit remains and smiles up at me and beckons and I come and I look to the corner where you stood and again you are there and pull me into your arms and the room fills with wind and we are linked by the kinetic message of our psyches and the physical embodiment of commingled truth and the impression of your body lingers and tingles…knowing we could renovate the past to a glistening reality in the present and buy the memories of a house to become a home and live happily ever after amen
In this new and rich world of poetry and love messages from the hereafter, neither time, place, nor distance played starring roles. With no regard whatsoever for boundaries, our love for one another appeared to continue unabated. But if we did continue to haunt each other with our waking dream of love, I began to wonder, what was the reason? And where would it ultimately lead us?
To Chapter 16