Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 80932 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80932 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
It wasn’t for any religious, spiritual, or health reasons. Neither of us just liked the way it made us feel. Besides, the morning after my run-in with the concrete barricade, along with the three quarters of a fifth of Jack I had drank, left me vowing never to touch another drop of alcohol again.
The third requirement to my continued employment with the team was I had to attend some sort of grief counseling. The terms were specific. I had to go at least twice a week for the remainder of the entire season, and I was even provided a list of suitable places I could go to. I had to sign a full release so the counselor could communicate my progress back to Christian. If at any time I was not fully participating, he could release me from the team with forfeiture of contract. If I skipped one session, I’d be released. If I didn’t make progress in emotional healing, I would be released.
It was all very rigid, narrowly defined, and almost designed to set me up for failure if I didn’t know any better.
There’s a big part of me that just wants to hand the team a big ‘fuck you’. The terms aren’t going to be easy. It means I’m going to have to confront my demons.
It means I’m probably going to have to let MJ go, and no matter how fucking painful it is to remember her dying beside me in that plane, they’re the freshest memories I have of her. I don’t know if I can do it.
I’ve done a lot of thinking. I’ve prayed to the only God I know and one who I never called on much until now. I’ve searched my soul for the right answer, but there’s no clarity.
There seems to be no right answer for me, except…
Except if I hand a ‘fuck you’ to the team, my hockey career is over. And for better or for worse, it’s the only thing in the world that gives me some small measure of happiness.
Maybe happiness isn’t the right word, but it sure as hell gives me respite from the pain.
And that has value to me.
I glance at my phone again, noting it’s now six fifty-one. Still time to think on this some more, but I know the clock is ticking ever closer to the decision I’ll have to make—one that will have a profound impact on my future.
No easy task.