Monday, July 26, 2004
Introspective Yet Possibly Incredibly Superficial and Uninteresting (not to mention meandering) Post
So for a while I've been thinking about how well my dad would be doing if he were still alive. I don't know if any of you really remember the kind of person he was before the stroke, and after the stroke, and when he died, but I do. It is a hard thing to share with people. It is probably easiest to talk to my brother and know we understand each other the easiest, but it is hard to really open up with someone you know feels the same incredible pain you do. It's just thinking about the same thing at different times can be stressing or very relieving. What can I talk to my brother about? My dad was cheap. I suppose I could talk to other people about this, but when other people hear that sort of thing they think it's being critical or something. I don't know. There was the time that a possum was living in our house. I was the only one who had seen it and thought it was a rat. Thus, my dad and brother thought there was a rat in the house. One night my dad came home and found the "rat" in his curtains. He they pulled out a nightstick and hit it, causing a dead possum to fall on the floor. I can relate this whole story to my brother by saying' "Hey! Remember when dad beat that possum to death?" But someone else hears that line and he becomes whitetrash or something in their mind. One of the problems with sharing memories is that it is not really possible. You can share a recollection, but to actually share all the humanity and emotion and circumstance and relation of souls that make up a memory is not possible. Or at least I don't think it is. It's like a watching a movie. Despite seeing Saving Private Ryan I am sure I really have no clue what it was actually like to be at Normandy and have no idea what it is like to live with that memory forever. The train has lost the rail. Anyway, my dad was doing really good from a rehabilitation standpoint when he died. He could speak almost normally, if not quite as fast as he used to. He could walk, with a cane, quite well. He could still find humor in life despite things being awful. And they were awful. Sure he had support and was recovering and was making plans for the future, but things that we find so basic were taken from him. I'm not going to get into it. I loved my dad, and he loved me. There was a lot of things from the outside, and the inside as well, that were not great but he was an amazing father. I don't know. I think it speaks quite highly of my parents that other people can see a lot of them in my brother and I. They did a fantastic job with the hand they were dealt. I miss them, everyday.
So for a while I've been thinking about how well my dad would be doing if he were still alive. I don't know if any of you really remember the kind of person he was before the stroke, and after the stroke, and when he died, but I do. It is a hard thing to share with people. It is probably easiest to talk to my brother and know we understand each other the easiest, but it is hard to really open up with someone you know feels the same incredible pain you do. It's just thinking about the same thing at different times can be stressing or very relieving. What can I talk to my brother about? My dad was cheap. I suppose I could talk to other people about this, but when other people hear that sort of thing they think it's being critical or something. I don't know. There was the time that a possum was living in our house. I was the only one who had seen it and thought it was a rat. Thus, my dad and brother thought there was a rat in the house. One night my dad came home and found the "rat" in his curtains. He they pulled out a nightstick and hit it, causing a dead possum to fall on the floor. I can relate this whole story to my brother by saying' "Hey! Remember when dad beat that possum to death?" But someone else hears that line and he becomes whitetrash or something in their mind. One of the problems with sharing memories is that it is not really possible. You can share a recollection, but to actually share all the humanity and emotion and circumstance and relation of souls that make up a memory is not possible. Or at least I don't think it is. It's like a watching a movie. Despite seeing Saving Private Ryan I am sure I really have no clue what it was actually like to be at Normandy and have no idea what it is like to live with that memory forever. The train has lost the rail. Anyway, my dad was doing really good from a rehabilitation standpoint when he died. He could speak almost normally, if not quite as fast as he used to. He could walk, with a cane, quite well. He could still find humor in life despite things being awful. And they were awful. Sure he had support and was recovering and was making plans for the future, but things that we find so basic were taken from him. I'm not going to get into it. I loved my dad, and he loved me. There was a lot of things from the outside, and the inside as well, that were not great but he was an amazing father. I don't know. I think it speaks quite highly of my parents that other people can see a lot of them in my brother and I. They did a fantastic job with the hand they were dealt. I miss them, everyday.
