I don't normally share my personal journal entries online. I'll share bits and pieces of them, and usually on my other blog, but today's was the best bit of writing I feel like I've done for a long time and I wanted to share. The pictures are by no means related, just wanted to share the progress I've made so far on various projects.
Everyone thinks their issues are unique, that they're the only ones who have ever experienced these things. These people are mostly writers, trying to make sense of their experiences and to show people that they really are as fucked up as they've said they are.
Today is Father's day. On Mother's day, I called my mom and talked to her for at least 45 minutes even though we were on our way to Orlando. Even though I had sent her a card filled with deep sentiments and my attempts at handwriting.
I sent my dad a card. I don't know if it got there in time or not. I don't know if I will call him.
There are so many weird emotions there and every time I try to make sense of them, I just frustrate myself and revert to being an angry 14 year old. I don't like that person who was too cynical and pessimistic for her own good, who grew up hard and hardened. Who didn't trust the people she should've.
Beth wrote a letter to her dad, my grandfather, who has been dead for 31 years by her count. She told him how much alike they were and was generally angry about how he isn't here and never really was.
I started this entry confused and frustrated, a trail mix of emotions, when my dad messaged me, thanking me for his card that did arrive in time. He mentioned his colonoscopy he's having on Tuesday for a general checkup since he's over 50 now.
"well after tuesday, I won't be as full of shit as I usually am"
It's these comments and moments that remind me that no matter what, he's still my dad. I may not be as tall as the rest of that side of the family but the same sense of humor is what connects us all.
I'd never really thought about the fact that I hadn't met my grandfather until today. I never knew him or met him and never felt sad or upset about it. It was just a fact, like the sky being blue or the ground hard. My grandfather was dead and I'd never meet him.
And then I read what Beth wrote and suddenly I missed a man I never knew. I missed the opportunity I never had to meet a man that I'd never know. I think the biggest reason why I was so upset by Beth's letter is because she said he would've liked me and which, in turn, I'd probably like him. A quiet, sullen man who liked photography and wicked jokes.
Yeah, I think we could've enjoyed a beer or two together.