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wasabi_poptartAnother February 13th has come and gone and honestly, the protracted mourning ended awhile ago. There will always be some sadness and grief and sense of loss and regret for all that coulda shoulda woulda, of course, but fourteen years is quite long enough to have dealt with somebody not being around anymore who was never really there all that much to begin with.
But there is something.
My sister emailed me on the 13th to ask me how my day was. She made mention of a favorite memory, as is our wont, and then added that he was great. And the thing of it is, well, no he wasn't. He wasn't great at all. Sure he was smart as hell and funny as shit and all, but he wasn't great. Nor was he horrible. He was a lousy husband and a disappointing father, but he was a victim too, who had serious issues with booze and with women, who squandered some talents while exploiting some others, and he really did the best he could. He was human.
He was, I suppose, greatly human. As are we all.
I am now getting to be the same age as he was when I knew him. And while I don't know what it's like to be a parent, of course, I see it around me. I see parents fucking up all the time, as much as kids do. And just as the kids must be forgiven for the fuck-ups, so must the parents. We must forgive each other. We must forgive ourselves.
He's less an authority now, and more of a contemporary. I respect him less and understand him more. And should my years and experience outlive his, as in another fifteen years I certainly hope they will, what he wasn't able to be will maybe be overcome by what I become in hishonor.
No, honor isn't quite the word.
What I become in his stead.
But there is something.
My sister emailed me on the 13th to ask me how my day was. She made mention of a favorite memory, as is our wont, and then added that he was great. And the thing of it is, well, no he wasn't. He wasn't great at all. Sure he was smart as hell and funny as shit and all, but he wasn't great. Nor was he horrible. He was a lousy husband and a disappointing father, but he was a victim too, who had serious issues with booze and with women, who squandered some talents while exploiting some others, and he really did the best he could. He was human.
He was, I suppose, greatly human. As are we all.
I am now getting to be the same age as he was when I knew him. And while I don't know what it's like to be a parent, of course, I see it around me. I see parents fucking up all the time, as much as kids do. And just as the kids must be forgiven for the fuck-ups, so must the parents. We must forgive each other. We must forgive ourselves.
He's less an authority now, and more of a contemporary. I respect him less and understand him more. And should my years and experience outlive his, as in another fifteen years I certainly hope they will, what he wasn't able to be will maybe be overcome by what I become in his
No, honor isn't quite the word.
What I become in his stead.
