Wednesday, April 21, 2010


Zuba posted a comment, to say

"I couldn't listen to mommy's. No way no how, chickadee."

I somehow managed to delete her comment - so my apologies for misquotations AND for destroying your words at all, my wonderful friend.

I have to say, as much as I could probably topple into some sort of ill-advised behavior, the mood this has left me in, I don't really have the resources for sin at the moment. And whatever the backwash, the actual service was necessary. Hearing my brother, and even myself. It was our words, so much more than the pastor's, which scared me - and affected me. It was my brother's voice, and the sound of my own sorrow redirected after seven years, which meant the most.

That meant nothing, then. We were in the midst of loss. I had no idea, frankly, how my sibling and I sounded - nor did I care, except from the NEED to speak for my father. I think somehow I have always been afraid I didn't do well, didn't do him justice.

I still can't say that I did. I know my brother did. "Never stop holding the woman you love." Lesson number one he shared, from my father. My brother was wonderful.

My voice sounded weird, scared, desperate.

And I was all those things. And still am, of course.

People said, at the time, such kind things about our remembrance of our dad. Maybe funerals are places for kindness and generosity, with such emotion.

"It breaks my heart that there are people who will never know my father," I said.

It still does.


Zuba said...

listening to the tape i made of my meeting my father has the opposite run of emotions, you can hear my pain, frustration, anger, indignation, and MOST of all... my unforgivably incorrigible potty mouth.

Zuba said...

It breaks my heart I didn't get the chance to dazzle Mr. Major.
I feel the same about Ms. Dorothea Ann Thompson El-Maadawy, miss.
I think that's a tribute as well ... that we feel that way about our parentals in the end. That says Something. Just not sure what exactly.
xoxo and such

DLM said...

Well, of course, your dad and my dad are different stories. Your MOM and my dad, however, are almost certainly good for a laugh as they observe their crazy daughters. And, even though I got to *meet* yo-mama, I too regret not getting the chance to "dazzle" her - heh. She was cool stuff, your mom (as is your man). So was my dad. And that's definitely SOMETHING.