saying goodbye, saying hello

hi dad

i love you 4 cups too, and thanks. it's been a hell of an eventful year hasn't it? i've lost 80 pounds, bought my first home, travelled countless kilometres to see you and mum, fallen in love with a heel (and travelled almost as many kilometres to see him), come to my senses (somewhat), and learned only very recently what it feels like to fall in love with someone who loves me back and treats me well.

a few weeks ago you asked me not to feel sad; most of the time i don't, but today i miss talking to you and hearing your voice when you tell me you love me "4 cups". i expect the coming year will be difficult as i step on new milestones. maybe not just the next year; i suppose it could be longer than that.

having experienced an assload of trauma when i was 16, i can tell you that i'm not traumatized by your death. i don't see the world outside as an empty black hole and i feel i have a purpose for being in it. bright days are still bright and i still see the beauty in beautiful things. right now things are a little dimmer without you; i know that will pass, and it's only perception.

and i'm really glad we made time to spend time together before you died; bringing hot borscht and giving you a sponge bath while i answered your questions about my future plans and where we were going to meet for christmas, and yes, kimsquit will be there...i will never forget those moments.

"does he like you?"

"yes, very much."

"do you like him?"

"yes, very much."

"that's good."

...and no, there's no choice to make - i've already made it, and i liked the boy who just phoned a few minutes ago, i liked him very much too, but i'm not going to waste another breath of my precious life on someone who bats me around like a dead mouse - i'm worth being treated with respect and kindness. so i said goodbye to him...and i'm glad you replied, "that's good." i'm really glad i got to tell you that. i don't know why - but it's important to me to know that you left me knowing that i'm in good hands. even if i was still alone i'd be in good hands - my own are strong and capable, and i know how to use them to reach out for help when i need it.

and as much as i miss you, i'm selfishly and deliriously happy in my own little world, and i've learned to love myself enough in the last few years to open up and expose myself to risk, and to know a good reward when it appears. :)

i missed sharing grandchildren with you - i still don't know if i'm ready for kids - after writing off that possibility over three years ago, i'm reconsidering. and it scares the shit out of me. and all i can think about is how much they'll miss, not knowing you. they'll know me, and they'll know kimsquit, and they'll know mum and blake, and that will have to be enough, but i loved playing with you when i was little and i loved watching you play with little ones when i grew older. and i'm a little sad that we'll miss that.



because it is good.