Year 2
Actually I'm late again. Last year and this year, I wrote the entry re: my grandfather's death anniversary (Feb. 11) in the wee hours of Feb 12. Wasn't gonna write this at all, but then I was trying to think about what I should do to honor the day, and I read what I wrote last year and what I wrote the year before (when it happened) and I was glad I had that to do, next year, this entry is for you.
I'm through with lists of things to remember, I was afraid I would forget, but it's been two years and I haven't. There was so much in the air today, reminding me of it, and yet I kept not remembering. We were supposed to write a song about February for today - I obviously had a topic for it, this, but chose not to take it. We had this long discussion in one of our classes about how mortality is a cornerstone of the human condition, and he was the person I knew best who I don't know anymore. Then I saw a play tonight, Becky Shaw, where a central plot thing had to do with the anniversary of a father's death. Not the same thing, but still. And my grandma forgot, I guess. And I did too. But my mom remembered. Which just goes to show you can never tell what people really think or feel about others from observing their behavior towards them. Or maybe you can but it's not what you expect.
I don't know if I miss him. I'm used to him being gone now. But I'm not used to the intellectualization of this is the second year, and next year will be the third, and there will always be more years, with larger numbers and that won't ever change. Today will always be the day he died. And he will always be dead. I guess that's what I really have to process about it, the finality of it all. That's what I said last year but it still holds true for me. There's no going back. But when 21 years of your life included someone, and thus far only 2 have not, it's hard to find the point that despite the imbalance of those numbers, the smaller one prevails...and one day the scale tips in it's favor...but that's a long time.
Mostly when I think of him, I think of how he'd feel about what I'm doing now and how please he would be. The last conversation I choose to remember with him (the last one I actually remember with him makes me laugh but I try to ignore it, he told me and my cousin he was like a broken down machine and all his parts were wearing out, etc...it was really depressing, though also sort of hilarious both in retrospect and at the time...don't ask me why) was in a car, on the way to the Peruvian restaurant, the week before 2nd semester of senior year started, explaining about how I wanted to take Paula's class and how I had to apply to get in and I wasn't sure if I would but how she'd liked my play at the reading, etc. and him just thinking that was great and having no doubt I would get in. It's really something to know someone is constantly impressed by you. Not in a selfish way, but in a confidence inducing way. And I don't miss that, because I don't think it's gone, even if he's not around to tell me.
I'm through with lists of things to remember, I was afraid I would forget, but it's been two years and I haven't. There was so much in the air today, reminding me of it, and yet I kept not remembering. We were supposed to write a song about February for today - I obviously had a topic for it, this, but chose not to take it. We had this long discussion in one of our classes about how mortality is a cornerstone of the human condition, and he was the person I knew best who I don't know anymore. Then I saw a play tonight, Becky Shaw, where a central plot thing had to do with the anniversary of a father's death. Not the same thing, but still. And my grandma forgot, I guess. And I did too. But my mom remembered. Which just goes to show you can never tell what people really think or feel about others from observing their behavior towards them. Or maybe you can but it's not what you expect.
I don't know if I miss him. I'm used to him being gone now. But I'm not used to the intellectualization of this is the second year, and next year will be the third, and there will always be more years, with larger numbers and that won't ever change. Today will always be the day he died. And he will always be dead. I guess that's what I really have to process about it, the finality of it all. That's what I said last year but it still holds true for me. There's no going back. But when 21 years of your life included someone, and thus far only 2 have not, it's hard to find the point that despite the imbalance of those numbers, the smaller one prevails...and one day the scale tips in it's favor...but that's a long time.
Mostly when I think of him, I think of how he'd feel about what I'm doing now and how please he would be. The last conversation I choose to remember with him (the last one I actually remember with him makes me laugh but I try to ignore it, he told me and my cousin he was like a broken down machine and all his parts were wearing out, etc...it was really depressing, though also sort of hilarious both in retrospect and at the time...don't ask me why) was in a car, on the way to the Peruvian restaurant, the week before 2nd semester of senior year started, explaining about how I wanted to take Paula's class and how I had to apply to get in and I wasn't sure if I would but how she'd liked my play at the reading, etc. and him just thinking that was great and having no doubt I would get in. It's really something to know someone is constantly impressed by you. Not in a selfish way, but in a confidence inducing way. And I don't miss that, because I don't think it's gone, even if he's not around to tell me.