“Hold on, hold on to yourself, for this is going to hurt like hell.  Hold on hold on to yourself, you know that only time can tell.  What is this in me that refuses to believe.  This isn’t easier than the real thing.”

June 16, Happy Birthday Mommy, I know that you made this day glorious outside so that I could enjoy it and remember you. It will be fourteen years in November since her death.  Fourteen fucking years . . . my god, what the fuck? Where has the time gone, I am left with thinking, what have you become? I always had an extremely close relationship with my mother, me being the only child I was the apple of my mothers eye.  She always knew I did not quite fit, I was the only one with the long dark hair.  Apparently on my mothers side the fairer you were the better, I was always glad I wasn’t a blonde.  My mother did everything she was a room mother for gods sake, we went to church on saturday nights and she never swore.  Fucking holy hell, I don’t think I could live up to the kind of daughter that she would have wanted me to be.  There are things for sure that I have taken from her.  I hate poor manners, I still hand wright thank you letters and I know this is absolutely fucking hysterical, a lady always covers up and doesn’t show too much.  My mother was the epitomy of a straight laced class act, always put together. I for one can say, I have inherited this charm from her.  This has done me oh so well especially inside of the strip club, a contradiction? Yes. Money making strategy, number one . . . lady like behavior equals a great day.  I don’t though think she would have been thrilled or as accepting of the way I have turned out, maybe if she didn’t die we would have had a falling out and I would be without a father as well as a mother.  Sparrow and I were talking about this last night on the eve of her birthday.  I didn’t know if this sounded wrong, I guess it is not right or wrong, you just feel how you feel.  I was saying, that if it took my mother dying to give me the relationship that I have with my father then I would have gone through it another ten times.  Don’t get me wrong, the dying of my mother, not her actual death, destroyed me beyond  words years and years before it happened.  You think. . .take a look at this blog and the shit in it.  I loved her as much as anyone ever could, not as much as my father.  He carries this burning torch for her still, he has never dated.  Many a time, has said that nobody will ever be her, so why bother . . .I get it, I really do.  I wanted to find a love like they had, my father adored my mother so much to the point that it crippled me.  I had no idea how to fill up my own gas tank until I moved out into my own apartment and even then when my father came to see me he would take out my car and fill the tank.  The random acts of kindness and sweet doting.  I never thought I could have found someone that could love me like my father loved her, and treat me like I was the only thing that meant anything the world.  Sparrow came along, we have a very long road a head of us.  He is all of that and maybe a little more, not a bit less.

I have very few soft spots in my life at this point, I have over the years hardened out of sheer necessity.  The grief, the loss and sadness that I faced was intolerable, I had to find a way to heal.  I think, maybe some of that healing has just started.  Like I said my soft spots, my father who I am forever grateful for, I hope in his lifetime he sees that I have begun to accomplish something good in my life, something good for myself.  I know he wants for me to be nobody other then myself.  It brings tears to my eyes that despite all of my huge fuck ups, let downs and failures . . . his daughter is a career stripper . . . he has absolutely nothing but love for me, me his only child.  I think sometimes he is relieved that I don’t look like her, then he would be reminded of her all the time, as if he isn’t always already.  People think my father is strange, I guess maybe he is, fuck. . .so am I, like father, like daughter.  All of this is on the surface today, tomorrow being fathers day.

Things have been a bit strained, just a whole bunch of stress, the old stressors that pile up with the new.  The old that never seems to die as much as one may try to kill it.  Like ghosts, it seems to creep it’s way back, even when you thought you let it go.  Right back there in your face . . . like what the fuck do you want me to do to make it stop.  It gets scary, I got scared for the first time in a while the other night.  The first night that I had been alone in a while, the shit just crashed down and toppled me over.  Lately I have felt like I have been carrying a bit, I have had to be the stronger of the two of us as he is struggling quite a bit  right now. . . not like Sparrow hasn’t carried my ass for months on end.  It’s just a lot for me, it’s harder by nature.  I do feel like I have been making some kind of progress, I have starting just to be able to accept somethings as what they are.  I know it sounds easy, for some it is, for someone like myself it’s like being out camping . . .  the worst fucking thing in the world.  I have had to start to change, lord knows, we all know, that is the only thing that is constant.  It’s like giving myself a literal break, I have no choice, I can’t care about it all, and most of the time, I think, I don’t care at all.  Few things matter, my father, my Sparrow, the animals and a little bit of peace carved out of this life.



~ by applejaxe on June 17, 2012.

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