You don't have to forget to forgive.

My grandfather's death a few weeks ago has done something really strange.

I was really close to Grandpa... He was one of the very few people who realized what a big hole my dad left behind and made every effort to fill in as much as he could for us. I always felt like I could tell him anything (really, anything) and he'd never judge me or think poorly of me. He was really good at that, at making you feel welcome and loved and putting a positive spin on things. Sure, there were times when we had disagreements, but not a day went by that I doubted he loved me.

In a way, since he's been with me for so long, I have more of him to miss than I do of my dad. At first I was a little scared that it would be even harder. But somehow it's much, much easier. He was sick and uncomfortable and elderly...when he died it was very much his time. And he was ready. And I saw it coming for a long time, and I shared so much with him and my time with him was so good that I was ready too. This seems to be a common theme--my grandmother, my mom, my sister all say they feel the same way. It's unexpectedly easy to let him go.

The strange thing I mentioned earlier is that this loss has made my dad's death easier. It's like a bookend to years of emptiness and rage and disappointment and frustration. Experiencing the peaceful and completely expected death of someone close to me has really helped me see death with a new perspective. As if Death and I have decided to kiss and make up.

I'm experiencing a new serenity I've never felt before. And it feels good, like I've got a better handle on this life thing than ever. It's like Grandpa's still sneaking presents to me when nobody's looking.

The middle of the night is tough

I keep thinking of Him. I don't have Him. I can't. That's why I'm thinking about Him.

It segued into thinking about Dad. The middle of the night is the worst time to think about Dad. For some reason it hurts worse when the rest of the world is asleep.

Why do I spend so much time being sad about the things I can't have? Wouldn't it be easier to spend that time being happy about the things I do have? More productive to spend it preparing for the things I can get?

Not so mighty hunter

A few moments ago my cat caught a black bug about as big as my pinky fingernail. Then she let it go and it leapt across the floor at an impossible speed. Then she caught it again. Then she let it go again. You know how it is with cats and their prey.

I freaked out. My heart started racing, I was kind of terrified. I snatched up a shoe with a wooden sole and held it out in front of me defensively. The moment it lay out in the open I shooed Penny away and smashed the thing as hard as I could on the carpeted floor. I was terrified this would not kill it. I was in panic mode as I removed the shoe and jumped back. I whimpered nervously as I approached it to ensure it had died. It wasn't moving so I looked closely at it - it was a fly. It had been scampering because she'd managed to remove its wings somehow. Disgusting, but harmless! I'm not afraid of a common housefly!

If you want to idolize me for any reason, please stop reading now.

I scare pretty easily. My entomophobia aside, I just have two bad habits that line up for the perfect storm: I overthink things and I care very very much about my relationships with my friends. When those relationships are threatened I become upset, terrified of losing someone. Unfortunately a Dr. Scholl's sandal is not an effective defense mechanism for this fear .

Thinky Face has become a good friend of mine. She's a really amazing person, really interesting and funny and sweet and caring and smart--I could go on and on with complimentary adjectives. I think the world of her and love her very dearly. About a month ago we were out at that tiki bar we hang out at and she met some dude. She's been seeing him, even though she yaks on and on about not wanting a boyfriend. Now she's spending time with him and I'm afraid that's going to leave me all lonely and sad. Ouch, my heart hurts. I'm scared!

He's a really nice guy, and I have absolutely no cause to dislike him. He's really sweet, he does nothing but nice things for her, he even does nice things for me. He very clearly wants me to like him. I do like him. But I've gotten pre-emptively angry about losing Thinky to him - and it hasn't even happened. And I really have nothing to lose in the first place! It's not like I have any claim to her or her time.

This is stupid, right?

Helicopter came down for the weekend and she watched my bitter, grumbly, and completely unpleasant behavior. She knew exactly what was happening because A)she's my best friend and of course I told her how much I like Thinky and B)she's watched me do it before--more than once, I am ashamed to admit. Thankfully she has the patience of a saint and talked it out with me today with an admonishment that was far gentler than I deserved. I was a Bitch to that poor guy, with a capital B. Someone really should punch me in the face. Really. I'd feel better.

I think I have identified my biggest flaw. I'm determined now to overcome it.

I like all my friends very much, but because I place so much importance on having those friends my behavior can get possessive and desperate and panicky, and I can't imagine that's very fun to be around. I don't need to worry that people will stop loving me. I don't need to assume someone doesn't like me anymore if I don't hear from him for a few days. I don't need to be so afraid of being alone. Alone is okay. Alone is good and necessary, even! Today I've used my alone time to check Facebook, to text message with some people, to e-mail Aunt J, to call Mom, to blog, knowing other people will read the blog...see a pattern? The alone time is spent seeking out other people to keep me company.

Thinky is very dear to me, but so what if she stops hanging out with me? I don't think she will, but the worst-case scenario is that she does. That's not the dude's fault--she could stop spending time with me anyway. She probably will too, if I keep acting like a spoiled child whose toy has been taken away.

So in the worst-case scenario I start going to the tiki bar by myself. I start having lunch after dance class by myself. I go have antics by myself, I goof around by myself, I take in the sights by myself and probably meet some new people along the way. And if I never hear from those people again I don't panic and worry I'm not cool enough or smart enough or funny enough, I breathe and relax and go do something else by myself. And if I'm lonely it's okay. Nobody can fault me for that, not even me.

I have plenty of friends and they're all really wonderful people; something tells me that they won't let me get too lonely. I like myself a lot, but I think there's definitely some room to improve that particular relationship. I think if I start allowing myself more real alone time I'll get to know me better and get comfortable being with myself and nobody else. And if I start to miss people they'll still be there. No need to panic.

Father's Day

I'm changing a lot lately. Moving furniture, purging from my life things I don't need, getting rid of unwanted baggage and cleaning out the junk. Every time I make a change I gain momentum as if I'm dropping off excess weight during a race. At the finish line is feeling good an happy and whole again. My friends and family are cheering me on along the sidelines. I'm doing it for them.

I want to be better, of course, but it's for them not for me. I would never ever want someone to have to miss me the way I miss you. I couldn't do that to them. It was a really shitty thing to do, Dad, leaving us without you like that. You really fucked up my life and I'm angry about it. It wasn't fair, you had a responsibility, if not to Mom than to us. I know you were sick, but that doesn't make it any less acceptable. I'd rather have a dad in a loony bin or jail or even just out there in the world on his own than no dad at all.

At least maybe you could have waited? Like ten or fifteen years? You could have seen me grow up...didn't you want that? I think you'd be really proud of me. I've worked hard and come a long way...but I wish you'd been there to see it, and maybe to talk me out of some of the dumber things I've done.

I miss you. I've missed you every day since the police came to our little white house and told us you were dead. And as pissed as I am about it all, I still love you. I'm trying really hard to forgive you, but first I think I have to forgive myself for all the time I've spent being angry. I need to let it go.

Dehydration and The Bridge

Running in Prospect Park today was a-freakin'-mazing! It's gorgeous outside, and it seemed like all of Brooklyn was milling around in the sunshine or laying in the grass or riding bikes or strolling.

It started out as a great run; I'd already eaten, I'd sucked down a glass of water right before I left the apartment, and with the great springtime weather I felt good and strong. But after a long night of drinking and a long morning brunch at Bristen's with the girls (read: coffee consumption en masse), one glass of water just did not cut it. At about the three mile mark I hit a wall of dehydration. I felt like a cicada shell, all shrively and desiccated. It was kinda gross, and I just literally could not continue. I managed to walk about a quarter mile until I found a water fountain, where I drank and splashed so much I may as well have been a bird in a birdbath. People stared, but I was refreshed! Fresh fresh fresh!

Revitalized, I continued on, though still a bit dehydrated. And suddenly I remembered the bridge. I think maybe I've mentioned it before, but it bubbled up to the forefront of my brain today.

Please consider this Big Idea #2, although this idea has been floating amporphously around in my head for several years.

East of Cleveland, nearby to where I grew up, there is a large, beautiful park called the North Chagrin Reservation. By large, I mean upwards of 2,000 acres. I really like going to that park whenever I go back to Cleveland to visit my family; somehow I feel like it reconnects me with my childhood. During the two months I stayed in Cleveland between leaving New Orleans and coming to New York I spent a lot of time running the trails at North Chagrin and used that as my time to meditate on my dad and to talk to him. It was there that I started the process of coming to terms with having lived most of my life without him and began really confronting my feelings of loss.

I don't really know as much about him as I wish I did, but I do know that he loved the outdoors and nature. And I know that the time I feel closest to him is when I'm in the woods by myself, rather than the few times I've gone to the large, impersonal cemetery where he's buried. And one day the idea popped into my head, that I want to build a bridge in the park for him.

Today, as I was running in a different park, the idea developed more. I realized that the bridge wouldn't be as much for him as it would be for me. It would be a place I could go and really feel connected to him and my feelings about him, and where I could talk to him quietly and miss him without any anger or fear...not that I can't do that anywhere, but this place would be really special to me.

And then I thought maybe it wouldn't be just for me, but also for anyone who's lost a parent. I thought maybe it could be a place that reminds people that it's okay to miss someone, or be a place where other people feel like they can talk out loud to someone who isn't there... And maybe it could be a place where Salty and Mrp can take Peanut and tell him about his Grandpa Steve.

So I want to build a bridge. I don't know how to start. I don't know where to get the money. I don't have any idea where I'll get the time to do it. But I want to at least try... And maybe it won't happen, but maybe it will. If I don't try, I'll never know.