Danger: Pothole

I cleaned off my desk thinking it would help me to be more organized.
Right.
Instead I find an old birthday card from my dad. Damn it.I knew it was there, I kept them (thank Goddess) but still I HAD to look at it, HAD to think about him.

Wow I miss him. I miss talking to him. Even though sometimes our conversations were strained or forced or whatever, sometimes they weren't.

The paradox of the difficult wealthy absent parent is the "you only call when you need money" trap. When I would want to call, but it was near my birthday, would he think I was just logging relationship points for the hopeful birthday check? What if I really just wanted to say hi.

Oh there were times the stress of it made me secretly think of the inevitable day when he would be mortal. I never wanted him to die, there were just times I wished he were, well.....

I found this while going down the rabbit hole of my desk:

"Another day awaits with its
mousetraps of memory
the ones that snap and sting my eyes
I look for them
I set some of them
I almost want to be caught"

I promise I'll try to write about something else someday.

6 Months!?

Wow I just read all my previous entries.
Jeesh

Mourning's quite the bummer huh. No one wants me at thier party!

Actually quick updates: there might be a goose egg for my brother and I after all. But in the time I thought there wasn't I was able to move through more of my grief. I can't explain how, it's a complicated mess of money and all the good bad and ugly involved with. Money truly is a necessary evil.

As for me I still have what I've come to call, "pot hole moments" A friend shared a great metaphor with me " it's (grief,loss) like a pothole, you know where it is, and most of the time you remember to avoid it. But every once in a while you hit it and BAM, you're day has changed, there's a flat, a busted axil, who knows"
Yeah, now and then I hit the pot hole, but it's alright. I cry, I write, I let it join the other memories if I want to keep it.

I wish...

well, we all have that don't we? I guess the trick is to stay away from the regret. Regret's no pothole, it's a sink hole. Observe it sure, but don't set up camp in it.

So Samhain came, and went. As did Thanksgiving, with call from a very teary stepmother who I hardly know, who I think of often and wonder how I can help.New Years, Imbolc, and now we move into Ostara, birthdays and SPRING.

Auditions start up again, and I've been taking an acting class for the 1st time in 18 years and it's GREAT. New headshots that I feel more confident about. A very real possibility of going to the Edinburgh Fringe Festival in August;never mind the fact that I'm studing for a sort of elevation in my spiritual path.

A bunch of creative little green shoots popping up all around.


Dad would be proud.

Really.