 |
Endorsements |
 |
 |
|
|
|
|
"You really are clueless, an embarrassment to the name. Hope you're adopted." -- June Dever
"this guy is right about conserving a clue. he hasn't one and that leaves more for the rest of us." -- Jim Lovell
"Your e-mail addy... should be 'dever@getalife.net.'" -- Sponge
|
 |
|
 |
|
|
 |
 |
 |
| |
|
|
|
| Long Nights |
| Posted by: dever on Tuesday, April 15, 2003 - 03:00 AM |
I have strange nights anymore. Two nights ago, in my dreams, I was standing with a group of people gawking as flames shot from the roof of some city building when I turned and my father was standing next to me. He had this big shit-eating grin on his face, as happy as can be and not a care in the world. Naturally, I was a bit surprised to see him since, well, he's dead.
Dad: "How are you?"
Doug: "Hey, you're not supposed to be here."
Dad (with a big smile and laugh): "I can go if you'd like."
Doug: "No, no, stay."
We talked about absolutely nothing for a few moments until people started looking at me funny for talking to someone who wasn't there, and with that, the magic was lost and he was gone. I wanted to ask why, but didn't. In hindsight, it was like most conversations we had - talk around the big issues and act like they're not there. When I'd call his office, we wouldn't talk about the important stuff, we'd talk about the Indians and Browns, where the new speed traps were, what a hair-brained scheme we thought the Mayor's Office had for downtown renovation, or how the idiots at ODOT are making our morning commute hell. There was a 500 pound gorilla in the middle of the room and we'd look at it and ignore it and act like everything was great. Just don't wake that sonuvabitch up, right? Six weeks later and not only is there a new gorilla in the middle of the room, you're not around to have a decent, irreverant conversation with, and that's what I miss the most.
Instead, I have to wait for a quick snippet in a dream and then spent the next two days awake and haunted. These are my nights. I wept longer and harder recently than I ever recall. Laying in bed, I hope I'm not going to start asking the questions I'll never find answers to. Why? What drives someone to do that? What was the final catalyst? I'm not going to lose my mind next, am I? And there you are, just in time for when I finally fall asleep, to show me how happy you are and act like nothing's wrong. Well, fuck you, mister.
You son of a bitch, I hope you saw that line of people lined up outside the funeral home for you. They were lined up out the door and you hadn't given most of them the time of day in over two years but they still showed up because they still cared. We all tried, but you just couldn't let go of your quest to save that disgusting, self-centered, worthless drunk that you married who didn't want your help, but needed your money. You knew it deep down too, but you were too stubborn to admit it, instead resenting all of us for pointing it out. You pushed everyone who ever cared about you away because we weren't willing to sit around and watch you destroy your life. Do you remember our conversation in 2001? "I don't know what's wrong here Dad. I'm the one who's 25, you're supposed to be telling ME how to not fuck up MY life."
How about this past fall, when your daughter told you, "It's her or me, Dad," and you chose to leave your daughter in tears in the lobby of the justice center. I didn't dare give you that sort of ultimatum, I knew how you'd choose. It was easier for me to just sit back and say, "Well, he's an adult, he's going to make his own decisions." It wasn't that your kids didn't love you anymore, it was that we couldn't stand to watch anymore - even Jerry Springer is only one for one hour per day. We shouldn't have had to witness that. In the end, there's a lot of things we shouldn't have had to witness and scenes I chose to witness and bear as my own cross to spare your other children.
So here we are, six weeks and it feels like yesterday. There's still a house that I don't want to go back to that I need to search for personal effects. As an added bonus, the drunk's lawyer has asked that she can accompany me so that we can make sure there aren't any disputes. Needless to say, I've been avoiding that phone call - dealing with the fallout from your marital problems isn't real high on my list of things to do.
Six weeks. I still haven't found any solid answers. I don't know why you decided what you did that day, nor do I know what was going through your mind. What could have been so awful that you wanted to leave so soon? Look at your beautiful daughter, happily married, probably going to be having grandchildren soon. Didn't you want to be there for them? Didn't you want to see that? We'll never know, because in your self-centered rage through the house that afternoon, you didn't even bother to leave a note.
So here's my self-centered rant, and at least I'll have the common courtesy to write it down for you. You shouldn't have gone, it's not right and it wasn't for you to decide when. You've ruined your father's retirement and sister's birthday, and left behind three very hurt and confused children, one of whom is only 15 years old and who looked up to you and wanted to be just like his Dad. You know, for weeks all I heard was about how much you cared about your children, but you sure had a funny way of showing it! Instead, in a rage and a stupor, you did something stupid and look at the consequences. I just want to shake you and scream at you, "Look what you did! Look!"
In the end, it's all a mess. I'm angry, hurt, and confused - but don't worry, I'll get over it. It took a little longer for things to start to sink in than I thought, hope you understand. Stop by to chat sometime, it's going to be a long baseball season in Cleveland.
|
 |
| 105 Comments
|
| Long Nights | Log-in or register a new user account | Comments |
|
| Comments are statements made by the person that posted them.
They do not necessarily represent the opinions of the site editor. |
|
|
|
| |
 |
 |
 |
|
|
|
Printer Friendly Page | Register | Log in 
