Rocky Horror, chess, The Smiths, and a refusal to accept the status quo
I haven't been mourning the death of my dad lately. I've been mourning my brother.
When his presence is absent during a time of such monumental happenings, it really strikes me just how "dead" he is (or, at least how dead the he that I knew is). Even my mom felt it. She whispered to me at the funeral, "It's just you and me now."
I know he hasn't been present for ANYthing in at least a decade, but when you opt out of your father's funeral and all the unconditional love that flows so freely in response to it, then you really must be dead.
I need to accept that he's gone. He's never coming back. I need to grasp onto the mandrake and remember what I can of him and the gifts he gave me.
When his presence is absent during a time of such monumental happenings, it really strikes me just how "dead" he is (or, at least how dead the he that I knew is). Even my mom felt it. She whispered to me at the funeral, "It's just you and me now."
I know he hasn't been present for ANYthing in at least a decade, but when you opt out of your father's funeral and all the unconditional love that flows so freely in response to it, then you really must be dead.
I need to accept that he's gone. He's never coming back. I need to grasp onto the mandrake and remember what I can of him and the gifts he gave me.