Wednesday, April 19, 2006

"I need you to hold on to while this part of me is dying" OR "Did daddies really never go away?"

As promised, the depressing brooding post. I'll try to keep the teenagerish moments to a minimum, but no promises. And, in order to read on, you must swear on whatever you think is holy that this blog will not be discussed among non-readers. I just need to get this out in the open.

I went home last weekend, only it wasn't home anymore. My sister was kind of in a weird mood, and my mom was at the race, and my dad wasn't home. My mom came back. At about 9:15 that night, she told me what had happened: My dad had been gone since Wednesday.

Anyone who knows me knows how close my dad and I are. We talk on the phone pretty much every day. We e-mail each other, we drink Jack Daniel's together, we hang out. He'd come by and left notes saying he was OK, but he wasn't there. They'd had an argument, and he left. I know my dad - he and I are a lot alike. When we're upset, we like to take ourselves away from the situation until we can be objective about it, so I know why he left.

My mom and sister hadn't heard from him other than the note he left, and, of course, they asked when I'd heard from him last, which was earlier that day. In fact, I'd talked to him every day that week, and I understand why he didn't mention anything, because he knows all I've been going through and probably didn't want me to worry about something else I couldn't do anything about.

Seeing my mom like that was hard, seeing my sister like that was hard, and not seeing my dad Saturday was hard. He came home Sunday while I was at work, but he and my mom hadn't talked yet - he's giving her space. My sister isn't really talking to him, either. I, naturally, went upstairs to the bonus room to watch TV with him Sunday night. He told me about everything, which I appreciated. It still doesn't feel right, though.

I have this place in Murfreesboro where I have some shit. I have this place in Hendersonville where I have some shit. But I don't have a comfortable, safe place anymore. I don't really have a home.

2 comments:

Jenn Ta Fur said...

Sending you a virtual hug.

Colby said...

Dear God,

Wendy Caldwell is an important part of my life. Help her out, please.

Thanks,

Colby