Index - Profile - Archives - Notes - DiaryLand - Random ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Space Dog. You think I don't remember. I remember it all. Oh sure. Sometimes I forget some. But when you've got a line so long it starts going around the corner, certainly I can be forgiven. I remember the ones that matter. On any given afternoon, I can recall places and people. I can't conjure the words. I don't get lost any more. I don't forget what town I am in and think the way to the tattoo parlor is down the street. I don't yell any more. I haven't lowered the tone of my voice, but I feel quieter. I'd probably feel better if every book I picked up didn't reverberate backlashes of my life. (The Zahir, if you're curious) And, I was doing so well, trying to see the good in people. Even when they bury it, in this sea of assholes, I can still find the magic fish. I am still the greedy wife... But how can you love man when he is so vile? So full of hate and vengence? So ready to cut his own blood down for a dollar? I keep looking for the bright side, but it's just storm clouds as far as I can see. I want to believe in karma. I want to believe that they've purchased their own ticket to their own personal hell. ... and I keep thinking, jury of peers. Of peers. My dad has never been perfect. He was a great dad when I was little, and when I was a young adult, seeing him as an adult, I questioned some of his actions. But he is my dad, so I looked past all of the things he had done and embraced him as my dad, with all of his past, and forgave him everything. I saw nothing but benevolence in his actions with my grandmother. I felt like it was he and I in a fight against age, and I felt like he was fighting the good fight. He was unprepared and unguided, but his intentions were good. They were right. And my heart is broken that someone, a jury of peers, could ever think otherwise. To think anyone could take advantage of my grandmother is the most ridiculous thing to me. You couldn't talk her into changing the channel on the TV, or turning the heat down. You couldn't talk her out of her house. You don't have a God. You don't answer to anyone, not even your conscience. You don't honor your family, not even your mother. Grandma and Grandpa still check in. I can feel them, they are seperate, but they are present. I can hear Grandma's voice, she comes around when we're together. You should know, she's fucking pissed. But... Thank you. Thank you for making me realize I was taking my dad for granted. Thank you for bringing us closer together, closer than we have been in nearly a lifetime. What you took from him, I will give it back ten fold. 4:21 p.m. - 2008-04-16 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
||||||