I just got off the phone with my mother. I feel like Buddha every time I talk to her. There are lots of deep breaths on my end, lots of awareness in the tone of my voice. My mother is so fragile. She's like a snowflake that melts even before the touch. It makes my heart hurt a little to hear the appreciation in her voice because I am silent and listening on the other end. Everyone should be given that respect - everyone needs someone to just listen.
After awhile I can understand why some have lost their patience with her. She is an aching and tired soul. She talked tonight about "starting over." Told me how happy she is for me that I've found a home here in Boston and just how charming JP is. She's right. I feel lucky, too. Very lucky...moreso fortunate. I don't take a minute of it for granted. That's for sure.
She told me that my Dad has been really sick lately. I'm told he had a heart attack and was in the hospital for the last week or so. She spoke with him on the phone last night. She said it may have been the third time they've spoken since they divorced. What's that...maybe 16 years? She told me she doesn't love him and that he sounded out of it and drugged. I'm sure he was. After hearing how sick he was she mulled it over in her head and asked herself "Do I feel bad, Do i love this person?" and her answer was No. I understand. But that hurt to hear...a little bit at least. He's my father. She tried to create a fairy tale life with him and it shattered to pieces.
Sometimes everything from my past feels like a dream. Or a story once told and soon to be forgotten. Memories can be triggered by the smallest and strangest of things. But beyond that it all seems like a giant wash of grey. I guess I don't like to remember.
Jake got arrested a few days ago. He's been hiding out in PA at my fathers. His name and picture have been on NY's "Perp Patrol." So fucking stupid. I don't know the legal part of it but I know that he has made his own bed. But that just seems extreme. Really, his picture on the news with a "most wanted" sign?
Anyway, the police in Ebensburg, PA came to my dads place last week and arrested him. I don't know exactly where he is now. Or if he has talked to anyone recently. I know he's scared. And sick. He is in deep with the law and I get the feeling that he's always drowning in murky waters. I have no idea what lies ahead for him. Or my father. Who also needs help but is clearly not behind bars like Jake. All I see are crying faces and cold solemn bodies when I think of the two of them. It's so morbid - but so true. I'd be afraid to look into Jake's eyes. For so many years now he was no where to be found in them. He was gone. And from what I know he still is. Like father like son. He followed the footsteps laid out for him and not long after he began to walk them.
Okay, I'm not trying to make this a sob story - it just is what it is. I feel for him, though. He should have just turned himself in. Shoulda, woulda, coulda doesn't matter anymore, though. This is where it's at. I'll just hope he gets the help he needs. I don't want to bury a brother. And more importantly, I do not want my mother to bury a son.
After awhile I can understand why some have lost their patience with her. She is an aching and tired soul. She talked tonight about "starting over." Told me how happy she is for me that I've found a home here in Boston and just how charming JP is. She's right. I feel lucky, too. Very lucky...moreso fortunate. I don't take a minute of it for granted. That's for sure.
She told me that my Dad has been really sick lately. I'm told he had a heart attack and was in the hospital for the last week or so. She spoke with him on the phone last night. She said it may have been the third time they've spoken since they divorced. What's that...maybe 16 years? She told me she doesn't love him and that he sounded out of it and drugged. I'm sure he was. After hearing how sick he was she mulled it over in her head and asked herself "Do I feel bad, Do i love this person?" and her answer was No. I understand. But that hurt to hear...a little bit at least. He's my father. She tried to create a fairy tale life with him and it shattered to pieces.
Sometimes everything from my past feels like a dream. Or a story once told and soon to be forgotten. Memories can be triggered by the smallest and strangest of things. But beyond that it all seems like a giant wash of grey. I guess I don't like to remember.
Jake got arrested a few days ago. He's been hiding out in PA at my fathers. His name and picture have been on NY's "Perp Patrol." So fucking stupid. I don't know the legal part of it but I know that he has made his own bed. But that just seems extreme. Really, his picture on the news with a "most wanted" sign?
Anyway, the police in Ebensburg, PA came to my dads place last week and arrested him. I don't know exactly where he is now. Or if he has talked to anyone recently. I know he's scared. And sick. He is in deep with the law and I get the feeling that he's always drowning in murky waters. I have no idea what lies ahead for him. Or my father. Who also needs help but is clearly not behind bars like Jake. All I see are crying faces and cold solemn bodies when I think of the two of them. It's so morbid - but so true. I'd be afraid to look into Jake's eyes. For so many years now he was no where to be found in them. He was gone. And from what I know he still is. Like father like son. He followed the footsteps laid out for him and not long after he began to walk them.
Okay, I'm not trying to make this a sob story - it just is what it is. I feel for him, though. He should have just turned himself in. Shoulda, woulda, coulda doesn't matter anymore, though. This is where it's at. I'll just hope he gets the help he needs. I don't want to bury a brother. And more importantly, I do not want my mother to bury a son.
"I am afraid I have no gift to give you, nor any payment. I am homeless, a Brahmans son and a Samana,"
"I could see that," said the ferrymen, "and I did not expect any payment or gift from you. You will give it to me some other time."
"Do you think so?" asked Siddartha mercily.
"Certainly. I have learned that from the river too; everything comes back. You, too, Samana, will come back."
No comments:
Post a Comment