Wednesday, May 30, 2012


Yesterday morning was rough. The realization that I wouldn't speak to my dad hit me pretty hard. I remember being young and waking up with the full knowledge that, yes, today is my birthday! For the past decade or so though, it doesn't dawn on me until the first time someone says Happy Birthday. That was my fiancé yesterday morning, as soon as I woke up, with a hug and a kiss.

It didn't matter that I was prepared for the fact I knew he wouldn't be calling. I shouldn't say that, I don't know what it would have been like if I hadn't at least thought about it beforehand. Regardless though, I did the manly thing...Went in the shower where no one could hear and cried. The future Mrs. knew though, she always does, and it carried over to the bedroom, where I sat on the edge of the bed with a towel over my head.

I feel like the milestones and annual gatherings will be the worse this year, as each of those passing days will be the first without him. I am unsure though, that in time, I will be better able to deal with this.

A few years ago I was in the Long Branch area with my two children and decided to stop at my grandfather’s grave site. I was very close with my grandfather, he was the man that had nurtured my imagination, turned me on to science fiction and fantasy books, watched cartoons with me as a child. As I walked to the location I was telling my children stories about the man they never got to meet, but would have loved them very much. I can do that because I know this to be true. My grandfather would have adored my children, much the way he did me, when I was young.

As we wrapped up, I walked them back to the car and asked them to wait for a moment. I went back to the grave (it wasn’t that far from the car), and spoke softly to him, letting my sadness of the fact he could never hold them out. It was probably the first time my children saw me cry. My daughter was too young to remember that I reasoned, and my son had an understanding of what was going on.

When my father passed, I pulled my children from school to let them know. I did this for two reasons. First, they deserved to hear it from me, and no one else. Second, I had to leave for Atlanta and did not want them to worry about me while I was gone (my son does that…worries, something I would give my right arm for him not to do at such a young age). I told them that it was ok to be sad, that it was ok for them to cry or yell and scream or do whatever they needed to do to get the hurt out.

My son opened the window in his room and screamed. He was sad and frustrated and angry. My daughter stayed with me and asked me if it was “Ok to cry, like that one time, at the place with all the graves.” She had remembered that, it had stuck with her.

The saying is that “Time heals all wounds,” but I don’t know if this is the case. My daughter hit the nail on the head, I still deal with the emotions the death of my grandfather bring up in me, and that was 16 years ago. There is no telling how those emotions about my father will manifest for the rest of my life.

"Time hides those wounds," would probably be a better saying. Time and the mundane tasks we go about in our daily lives cover and hide and distract us from our emotions. But the mind never really lets those wounds heal. At least, not for some of us.

Friday, May 25, 2012

May 29th and the question of time...

Tuesday is my birthday.

I hadn't thought about what that actually meant until I received a card from none other than Mary telling me everything will be ok. Even then it hadn't sunk in until I reread the card. She was of course, telling me what she had to deal with her first birthday without Uncle Frank. I feel better prepared now to face the fact that Dad won't be calling to send his birthday wishes and share some far fetched story he had read or heard.

My dad would do that alot. He loved to talk about anything, always wanted to share stories. He would often try to recreate comedy bits he heard from comedians. I will say this, his delivery was much better when it was his own story. Repeating another's...not so much. I remember once he called to tell me about a Lewis Black bit. Black was, along with Carlin, one of his favorite comedians. He butchered that bit. I mean destroyed it. I actually had heard the Black special it came from, and let out a laugh at how badly it was delivered. I could do that without him taking offense, because, while he was my dad, he was also one of my closest friends. We busted chops constantly, something that I find I miss more and more as the days slip past.

Come Tuesday, I'll be 33, something that doesn't mean much to me. While it sounds strange, I've started to care less about age and more about time. I remember when people who were older than I am now used to tell me, "Enjoy the time, it goes by faster when your older." I never understood that when I was younger. Who would? A second was a second, minutes and hours never change, they are a set amount of time. But they were right. In a few days, I'll be another year older, and it will have been a month since he passed. Where did those 30 days go?

I was just in Georgia making arrangements and helping my mother out with the tasks that no one should have to face alone. Hell, I was just at the lake last Memorial Day with my future wife telling my youngest to get out of the water because it was only 55 degrees and her lips were starting to lean towards a tint of purple. Where does it go? When we are younger, time seems to drag on. Waiting for something seems to take an eternity. Now, I can't help but look back at everything I've done and question how it all slips past so quickly. Not that I regret any of it, I just wonder where it went.

Thursday, May 24, 2012

Starting Over

Well, I've decided to give Blogging another go. A friend and I messed around with a blog a while back, something that was silly and fun, but nothing more than that. We both got busy and posts became less frequent. I may go back there and write again, but for now, I'm here.

I was whisked back into this by my cousin, after the loss of my father. I was encouraging her to continue on with her blogging and she used some type of Jedi mind trick to get me back into it. She had done this, somehow, before she physically told me to do it. She had inspired me back by showing me her writing on her condition and the demons she faces.

I know writing is a great release, something that is an easy way to get things out. Sometimes its difficult to articulate what I need to say, like there is a disconnect between my brain and mouth. That path seems much stronger when I can write out those feelings. With the emotions due to the loss of my father, there are things I need to get out, which hopefully, I can do here.