The most inappropriate thoughts float into my mind. Dude, just die and get it over and done with I think when I look at my father sometimes. The drama of the final act of your play, stretched out over the last year is becoming tiring. Just take your last breathe and leave us in peace. We always had more of it when you were not around. Correction. I had more of it. Again, just why am I so angry at this damn old dude? Wait. There are so many reasons I could list.I chose to be who I am…because you were not around. The things I needed most I found when looking at my mother and in books I escaped into.
Yes. I am angry. The old dude is dying and there’s a part of me that needs him to know just how spectacularly he failed, so he can see the consequences of his actions. We thought love behaved a certain way because of you old man. And who did you learn from eh? Just how far back does this fuckery go? There is a school of thinking that postulates we chose our parents, the lessons, the entire shebang because we are such powerful creators! Hell, we are so powerful we decided to forget our oneness and linger with the illusion of separateness just for shits and giggles. Why? Because it’s the only game in this town kid and dammit, it’s so much fun! In other words I chose an asshole father so I could be more resolute in my thinking and being. He chose to play this role so I could confront my own truths and know that I am loved with and without music. And now I am choosing to see him die along with the parts of him that caused me so much pain years ago. Yeah, this is one fun game…
He didn’t know any better, and this is what I find most shocking as he dies. My father did not know any better. I see realizations finding their way to him, ever so slowly. When I am really angry I think, ‘Yes, cry old man. This is all on you…’ Anger is a knife in your back, in your neck, your toe, your bladdy eye when you are dreaming. It wakes you the fuck up. So allow me to be angry just this one day. I am so tired of thinking I know the answers, the appropriate way to respond, of listening to the lyrical mumbo jumbo responses given by people who supposedly have been there! Hell, sometimes I even know better. But not today. Today I will own everything I feel as you taught me old man.
Your death will not destroy me. The way you lived when I was younger did more than enough damage. I will do my best to integrate what I have learnt from you. I will remember to laugh more and be kind. In time I will master making the only dish you are universally loved for – your ghetto, “traditional”soup. But, dammit…today I am mad because I know I will miss you. The horrible you and the you my Mother keeps falling in love with. The Daddy I longed for when I was young..and the Daddy I love more now as he dies. Tomorrow, or perhaps later this afternoon peace will find me along with a healthy dose common sense. After all you are dying and not me.