(no subject)
i. i'm telling you all of this because i'll never be your father, and you will always be my child. i want you to know that it's not out of selfishness that i am leaving, how can i explain that? i can't live, i tried and i can't. your mother suffered, too, but she chose to live, and lived, be her son and husband. i don't expect that you'll ever understand me, much less forgive me, you might not even read these words, if your mother gives them to you at all. it's time ot go. i want you to be happy, i want that more than i want happiness for myself, does that sound simple? i'm leaving. i'll rip these pages from this book, take them to the mailbox before i get on the plane, address the envelope to "my unborn child" and i'll never write another word again. i am gone, i am no longer here.
ii. he knew about me, he didn't know who i was, but he knew someone was there, and he knew she wasn't telling the truth, i could hear it in his voice, in my voice, in your voice. i needed to talk to him, but what did i need to say? i'm your grandfather, i love you, i'm sorry?
iii. i asked her to tell me about you, she said "not our son, my son," i asked her to tell me about her son. "i wouldn't let anyone speak a foreign language in the apartment. but he still became you." "he became me?" "everything was yes and no." "did he go to college?" "i begged him to stay close, but he went to california. in that way he was also like you." i'm sorry if that's true, the last thing i would have wanted was for you to be like me, i left so you could be you.
iv. for eight months i followed him and talked to the people he talked to, i tried to learn about him as he tried to learn about you, he was trying to find you, just as you'd tried to find me, it broke my heart into more pieces than my heart was made of. why can't people say what they mean at the time?
v. i wanted to touch him, to tell him that even if everyone left everyone, i would never leave him, he talked and talked, his words fell through him trying to find the floor of his sadness. "my dad," he said "my dad," he ran across the street and came back with a phone, "these are his last words." the message was cut off, you sounded so calm, you didn't sound like someone who was about to die. i wish we could have sat across a table and talked about nothing for hours, i wish we could have wasted time, i want an infinitely blank book and the rest of time.
ii. he knew about me, he didn't know who i was, but he knew someone was there, and he knew she wasn't telling the truth, i could hear it in his voice, in my voice, in your voice. i needed to talk to him, but what did i need to say? i'm your grandfather, i love you, i'm sorry?
iii. i asked her to tell me about you, she said "not our son, my son," i asked her to tell me about her son. "i wouldn't let anyone speak a foreign language in the apartment. but he still became you." "he became me?" "everything was yes and no." "did he go to college?" "i begged him to stay close, but he went to california. in that way he was also like you." i'm sorry if that's true, the last thing i would have wanted was for you to be like me, i left so you could be you.
iv. for eight months i followed him and talked to the people he talked to, i tried to learn about him as he tried to learn about you, he was trying to find you, just as you'd tried to find me, it broke my heart into more pieces than my heart was made of. why can't people say what they mean at the time?
v. i wanted to touch him, to tell him that even if everyone left everyone, i would never leave him, he talked and talked, his words fell through him trying to find the floor of his sadness. "my dad," he said "my dad," he ran across the street and came back with a phone, "these are his last words." the message was cut off, you sounded so calm, you didn't sound like someone who was about to die. i wish we could have sat across a table and talked about nothing for hours, i wish we could have wasted time, i want an infinitely blank book and the rest of time.