Diego
It’s been awhile since I’ve written at night.
Thoughts tend to jumble up by the day’s end, blocking the flow of creativity. After the chaos of work and kids, my mind resembles crosstown traffic. Thoughts block the box, impatience punches the horn. But here I am, after midnight, writing because I have to, because the fear of losing the words is far greater than my need to sleep.
How to capture what happened today? A sensation unlike any other. Uncanny, incredible. I’m reading a book of essays by Marilyn Robinson, one of my favorite contemporary writers. She refers to the phenomenon as apophatic: a reality that exists beyond words. I’ve found that much of writing and what motivates writing is approaching that unapproachable experience. I’ve always been a sucker to try things people tell me can’t be done.
It’s the miracle of the mundane stuff, when you get down to it. It’s when a walk to the park or a trip to the airport or a board game with the family so surpasses its precepts that you must use words like grace or divine intervention just to tell it like it is. It’s when the simple, the arduous, the painful delivers the complex, the expansive—the affirmational.
It’s one of those moments, those inexplicably rich ones, that is keeping me up tonight. And here is my attempt at the apophatic breakdown. Here, I will try and describe the phenomenon: the grace that sneaked up on me and smacked me upside the soul.
(To give you a sense of how rare these are: the last time I wrote this late into the night was after the Orlando massacre, when my unknowing son taught me a valuable lesson.)
It happened when we picked up Diego, the child we are fostering for the month of July.
Shirts courtesy of Kidsave (www.kidsave.org).
When I was eleven, I went to a basketball camp across the country.
I stayed with godparents in California for the week. Back then, I lived to play basketball. Summer days meant dribbling to the park and playing pickup until dark.
It was my first time flying alone. I was nervous. It helped that I was greeted by familiar faces at the airport. Throughout the week I ate comfort food and heard stories I’d never heard about my parents—how they met, what they were like when they were younger. I even expanded my Discman collection. How cool was this guy, coming home with the “The Sign” EP by Ace of Bass?
The trip was an expansion in my notion of family: I too have lived in California. I can travel across the continent and have people who take me in, care for me, love me. And then, I can come home to all that I knew was family before I left.
Diego turned 11 in April.
Diego, allowing his very proud foster-brother to play the role of ‘daddy lion’.
Three months later, he boarded an airplane for the first time in his life. He traveled to a country without knowing its language to stay with complete strangers for five weeks. He was willing to leave everything he understood as home to find a new home in a strange land.
We waited at the airport for him and 11 other children seeking permanent American families to clear customs. As anticipation grew, so did all the doubts I’ve been accumulating in the recent hours: we don’t know this child, what he’s been through or what he’s capable of. The Spanish I’ve learned on my phone can’t save me now. The summer I worked so hard for is going on hold.
Then it happened. The kids arrived. We all walked to welcome them. Someone started a round of applause. A wave of emotion overtook me. This kid is doing the bravest thing I’ve ever seen. This must have been what I was realizing as my family approached him at the airport, with our “Bienvenido” sign and our love. My nerves were singed. It felt as if whatever I touched could be set on fire. A day at the airport like no other.
My wife was twice Diego’s age when she traveled to Kenya, a stranger in a strange land herself. She recalled feeling terrified in the process. What if no one is at the airport? she thought. A natural fear to have in such a scenario. It is impossible to trust what we do not know. Unless we have faith. Faith. That prerequisite to bravery. It’s the blind walk, the free fall, the first step when you can’t see the summit. It’s the shaky newcomer who just doesn’t take a drink that day because the old-timer told him things can only get better without one.
Diego’s faith and courage bowled over me like a bomb of energy, eviscerating all of my petty grievances, shallow doubts, selfish grumblings. For what are my concerns compared to his?
Maybe that’s what kept me up tonight: the witness of such heart in so small a child.
There were the hundred small gestures that followed. The way he cleaned up the table after his meal. The way he leaped without reservation to catch fireflies and rush them back to his room for the night. The way he played soccer with the neighbors in the yard and helped up my three-year-old daughter when she fell. The way he sat the ukulele in his lap and made music without knowing how. The way he tapped my side when the stars came out and said, “Mira. Planetas.”
When discussing having another child, my wife and I continually circle the same debate. Is it really the right time? We’ve finally got things how we like them. We had similar conversations about bringing Diego in to live with us. This is going to be the first summer we can sit back and enjoy as a family. Why mess with it?
How could I have known that in making his brave journey, Diego had already put to rest every hesitation imaginable?
Logic is linear and measurable. Love is spherical and boundless. It’s epicenter is everywhere; it’s circumference nowhere. It knows no border. It does not delineate “us” from “them”. Love is the common tongue.
Love is not what we can hold in the container of our hearts, it is the extra that spills and splashes. I brought everything I thought I knew about life and love to Dulles airport and sat measuring it for hours. It only took a moment for a brave boy to show me how much I still have to learn.
What exactly was it that gave me this apophatic experience? This wordless phenomenon? Why did it take me until one in the morning at the end of a long day to begin to comprehend what happened? How did my life—the thing I’ve worked so hard to build—stand to be enriched so intensely and so quickly?
Maybe it’s just the boy who boarded a plane on faith alone.
Maybe it’s just Diego.
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Such a beautiful post in tribute to a brave young man. You will now always be part of his concept of family. Maybe one day he will write about this experience from his perspective and inspire another child or family to be brave, too.
That would be wild! If he wrote, I mean. That would make for a good novel too. 🤓
Wow.! And you “get it.” And what I mean by that is that “we” host foster kids, go on mission trips, travel to volunteer in weather-ravaged places, etc, ostensibly to help others (and that does happen) but what really happens is that we help ourselves and broaden our perspectives. This is so awesome and your family will be telling these stories forever. Much love to you guys.
Dude, so true. I was not expecting to receive this crazy benefit that I am experiencing. But it’s been like boom pow stuff.
Hope we find time this month to all get together.
Love is a synonym for God!
I loved this story. I look forward to hearing more about Diego. What a brave amazing child.
So much Love there – it’s vibrating through me. I could see why you’re still wide awake. Love met Love. How powerful is that? Thank you brother!
Yes! So powerful. The vibration is it. Thank you Dwight.
I’m sitting here with goosebumps. Agree with Dwight- I can totally see why you didn’t want to “lose the words”. For me, this is some your most beautiful work. Truly a gift. I love: “the grace that sneaked up on me and smacked me upside the soul.” and “Summer days meant dribbling to the park and playing pickup until dark.” But so many others as well. Rock on Mark and never, ever let yourself lose the words. We would all suffer a great loss. P.S. M.R. is also one of my favorites!
PS I typed in the wrong email for WTW so if you click on my name it won’t come up. WTW is still there but I have written my last post for the foreseeable future. I celebrated 1 year and plan on celebrating many more! Thank you for being one of my sober heroes.
Wahoo! Congratulations! One year? You are my hero. It is all about the WE. Doing this thing together. So happy for you!
Thank you so much Elizabeth. Your kind words go a long way. I wish I could claim total selflessness, but I’m weak. I do need your support and it’s appreciated.
Just wonderful 🙂🙏
Oh goodness. What a beautiful post, and beautiful boy. Am a little bit teary now!
Thanks Jay. He is a beautiful boy! An incredible sense of humor. I’m a better man for knowing him.
I’ve been on a much needed reduction in online life…but saw this and had to read more about your experiences with Diego. Life changing stuff…that brave beautiful child, for all of you. Bless you Mark for opening your heart and your family. ❤️
Always good to hear from you Annette. Enjoy the unplugged life, the good life.
I love this. Love knows no bounds limits or reason. It is limitless and expansive. I can connect with the heart feeling you must have had when you saw him doing this incredibly brave thing. xxx
Thank you for your generous well-wishes, Hurrah! The boy continues to impress and amaze.
I welled up with tears just reading this, what a wonderful gift you shared. Diego will remember the love, I know he will, but more so, you and your family will never forget the loving experience he brought to your lives. You are a great man.
Thank you for saying that, Dana. I do what I can. Please know too I only publish the good stuff. It’s what I want people to know sobriety can be about. I have a whole slew of other things I save for my sponsor. We’re none of us perfect. But thank you!
Diego is the gift that keeps on giving. I am wrapping up my next post on him now for Monday, actually.
Hi Mark,
As a shakey newcomer I felt your post very moving and helpful, it has filled my heart with love, compassion, and faith.
I am adopted by the most loving parents I could have wished for and can see Diego and you will have the most wonderful relationship, You are an inspiration. Blessings to you all ❤️🙏
Wow, Sasha. your response is worth all the hard work it takes to keep this blog up. Thank you for saying what you did. It’s great to hear from you. Keep coming back! It gets better. The hand does stop shaking. Better things come down the line, I promise. Stay with it!