Sometimes this is the only vent I have

This isn't a poem, sadly. This time of year always creeps up on me. There's a little clock that subconsciously ticks away the days until April 3. It's been this way for four years now. Four years from tomorrow. Four years since my father passed away. I'm not writing this for any ones sympathy. I'm not really sure why i'm writing this at all. Most likely because I tried to go to sleep over an hour ago and instead of sleeping i found myself sobbing like a child. Snot coming out and everything. Only, no one around around to wipe my face. Good thing I'm old enough to do it myself. But I don't think I'll ever be "old" enough not to break down in tears over this. Probably normal, they'd say. There are way more people out there who have had to deal with tragic events in their life. Far more tragic than the loss of a parent. I don't envy them, and my grief doesn't even scratch their surface. Fortunately, I'm not writing this for them. I'm writing this for me, because expressing emotion and communicating with someone, though likely only myself at this point, helps. Sure, i could call someone and ball my eyes out on the phone, but there's only one person who's seen me cry over the loss of my father, aside from the folks actually at the funeral, and I'd like to keep it that way. Call it maintaining some semblance of a macho male ego or call it silly, I don't care. Friends are great, and their sympathy and concern mean the world, there's just no point in "burdening" them with my emotional baggage, if you will, in this situation. Even after writing this little bit I'm tempted to just delete it all because I feel marginally better. But i won't. I'll leave it up here for the "world" to see. They won't judge me, and their opinion of me won't change. The world's that is. Mostly because this "world" is pretty limited since this blog isn't on any mainstream watch list.

I'm reminded of my father a lot. Not every day. Sometimes not every week. I find myself crying at a lot of movies or tv shows. Even ones that don't specifically employ the loss of a father. Any sort of strong dramatic emotional climax has an opportunity to bring a tear to my eyes. Guess the writers are doing a good job. Most likely it's because everyone in the world can empathize with strong emotional situations. I'm not hopped up on anti-depressants, enclosed in a dark cave, or suicidal. Though my mother may argue that i don't open the blinds in my half of the house ever and calls me a reptile. I prefer it cold and dark. Not likely a warning sign of severe psychological issues, but i'm sure I could persuade a therapist enough to write me some prescription. That's the seldom seen cocky and arrogance in me that presumes to be smart enough to mess with the mind of a psychologist. Though medicating society seems to be a popular thing. I'm not a big fan of medicine. I sidetracked myself a bit there. I'd have to say that perhaps the most recurring issue I have with having lost my father is the missed opportunities. Not remembering having told him I loved him. Feeling guilty for the times of my teenage angst where I hated him and thought him a horrible person. He wasn't a saint by any religious standard, but it's more than fair to say he was a great man. That's what saddens me is that I never really paid any attention to that fact until after he was gone. I took him for granted. The past is the past, do not dwell on it. Yes, I know this. I'm a smart guy but I'm also very passionate about the people in my life. My father was the same way. He always helped. He did whatever he could for whoever he could. Gave anything he could to anyone who needed it. I inherited that from him, along with the lack of a chin, bad knees, and strange powers for growing facial hair. I inherited some other things, but those are the "important" ones. ha. I regret the moments I fell short. I suppose I've learned to appreciate people in my life more but not always. I don't do a great job of telling people how much I appreciate them, but I try.

I just needed to get that off my chest. I'm going to go see him tomorrow and I'll cry then. I went to see him last week too and cried and thought about people in my life that never got to meet my father. He would like you.