my life

2001-07-15 : 8:01 p.m.
My heart ache and my mothers, is the same, yet different...

Maybe I am in this state of denial and I live in a world of my own where love, and joy and intense feelings for one another can help you survive even the toughest of times. I am trapped in the mind of my mother that way. I look at how she had some hard circumstances and that she came out of it not so much unscathed, but not harmed too much either. She went thru distressing times. Hard as hell times. Bad times. But in between those distressing, hard, bad times were also loving and good times that helped her thru the other times that were not so pleasant.

I can handle not having much money and possesions. But if I don't have Justen next to me helping me thru it than I will crumble out of existence as I know it. Maybe not die, but I would just turn into this hard ass bitch of a woman. A good mother but a bitch of a woman and a chip on my shoulder. Justen is incredible in the way that just looking at him makes me feel almost 100% better.

When my dad died I called Justen first. (of course after I called my mom) But he was the first person that wasn't related to me that I called. I couldn't think straight, I was driving aimlessly and I couldn't talk right, but I was crying incessantly, and I called him and just told him that my dad was in the hospital and he had AIDS. He hadn't died at that point yet but I just felt that he was going to. I knew he would. I knew it would be too good to be true.

I had gone my whole life without knowing him and had spoken to him only 3 times before and had 2 letters written to me. I have 2 pics. of him. and my sister calls me at work one day and tells me that she talked to dad. I was dumbfounded I tell you. So in utter shock that I wanted to just smile and scream all at the same time. Yet in the back of my mind I just knew that I couldn't get my hopes up and start to cling to a reality that was just the opposite. A fantasy. A numb and totally made up dream.

One where my sister and I get to run up to him after getting off a plane and hug him as tears literally flow down our faces and we squeeze so tight as to almost incorporate him into our selves and soles right there as we absorb his smell and kisses on our faces and feel his arms and around our backs and waists and for just 5 minutes we are children again and are getting the answer to our prayers. Different prayers, same answer. Our daddy. We both need him and want him for different reasons.

Maybe she wants him there so that she can be daddy's little girl again, something that she has had to accept as being gone forever and something that she won't get to revel in ever again, and had to adapt to being a Mommy's little girl. So she is ecstatic and unwanting now for a while. She has had it all returned to her. Her birthright. Her stable life.

I want him around and have for a long time to feel as if I was as important as her. I have seen not one picture of the chubby, dark haired, little buddha that I hear myself talked about as, with my daddy. MINE. and I want that soo badly. I have wanted that. So that I can feel that I am loved too. I feel shortchanged sometimes. Sometimes I feel that I wasn't that important to him. I mean how can a man have children with a woman who was soo devoted to him and not try with all his might and damndest to be with her and his two innocent babies. Who of the dark and dangerous world they are not accustomed to yet? HOW I FUCKING ASK YOU!! Were we that easily forgotten? Unimportant?

I want to feel like I was on his mind everyday. As does my sister I'm sure. She has probably got this amazing peace about her. Surrounding his existance is just this mysterious illusion for me. I feel almost as if it has never happened.

I talked to him on the phone 2 weeks before his hard to believe death of AIDS. I thought that in my lifetime I would be unscathed by the horrible epidemic. My dad was this God almost to me. Like he could do no wrong because of how my mother made him seem. She was so inlove with him that she was in a hazy cloud of hysteria of her own.

Disbelieving that he could have an affair with a younger girl (after all he was all of 23) and she was a ripe, matured flower of 38. Still her beauty was beckoning to those around her. Her intellect was unmatched in the way of how passionate she was. She wasn't a scholar of sorts but was a champion in the ways of her heart. Her love for people and those alike. She loved all and all loved her. For she was unsustained glory. Glorious, pained, scared, bitter, scarred, torn, horrified and betrayed. All those words describe how she returned from the country that held and still holds her heart. Her true love held her heart there and she left it behind. It was possibly and still is what she was trying to get back and never has from him. and now she never will.

So she settles for the country and soil that holds her soul and her hand and she settles. Settles for what she thinks will make her happy. When she knows that without him, my father and her true love she won't ever be truly happy.

It is heavy on her face. I wish that I could be there when she cries. So that I could hold her as he should have held her instead of that other woman, instead of a body that meant shit and yet ruined and tore my mothers heart apart and out of her chest. He single handedly took it all from her. and never has she been able to achieve real rest after that.

She has suffered ultimate betrayal and wreckage of the heart. Something that she so easily gave away.

If you love her or made her believe that you did, she'd crawl on her hands and knees for you. and she did so several times, for several men who each didn't deserve the air they breathed much less the gift of my mothers heart and soul which they so carelessly handled as dirt.

The only trace that she has of her heart or beautiful yet scratched soul is her children and grandchildren. In our eyes is the last glimmer of the glue that holds her together. and with our accomplishments she gets a little stronger and a little better. But she will never be able to all the way feel sustained with love the way that she was with my father. The man that wrecked her. and gave her dreams to dream and heart ache to carry. and 2 of her 5 beautiful children that she cherishes with all that she fought with.

My mother is the ultimate soldier. Who should have 3 purple hearts. and 5 Gold medals. One purple heart for each time that she had hers taken, and 5 gold medals for each of her beloved children. Not all of who treat her as she should be. We are not worthy of her battles that she has so tiediesly gone thru over the years but are lucky enough to still reap the rewards of her love.

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