when his mom died
my dad was eight
~
we talked
before he died
he had no memories
of her
~
cells, bones, tissue
are you still repressing ?
~
-
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when his mom died
my dad was eight
~
we talked
before he died
he had no memories
of her
~
cells, bones, tissue
are you still repressing ?
~
Geo Sans 
no memories at all?? at eight, I think you also find that hard to believe, but I’m just guessing here, and I also think you have become a much more thoughtful and caring father, which he taught you without knowing… (hope I didn’t overstep my bounds there)… but I’ll pray for peace to enter your heart to let him and your son continue on their paths, it’s all I can do, I can’t even imagine the depths of your devastation, but keep writing it out…it helps to ease it a bit! have a wonderful day, and love on that little girl, it helps too. :)
i was also very surprised
I have vivid memories
from being 3 years old
~
my dad was a
very different person
than me though …
Collecting our family, our history, especially when hidden away in memory, gives us cellular roots. Who knows what grows from this? …but something does. Maybe it stays in the intangible. Maybe the need is simply being human. Is this your grandmother? Have you noticed the likeness?
yes, I see lots
of my grandmother
in my dad too
I wanted to write something supportive to you. Every time I read your entries I am impacted. Therefore, I will simply say, I’m listening.
thank you
~
for
listening
you’re most welcome
thank you for
accepting
At eight, I suppose you don’t quite understand what’s happening, when a parent dies —
And, I don’t know how much time they would have spent together … that can make a difference. And, maybe at eight, you don’t try to cling to memories, the way you do when you’re older and understand better what’s happened….
Perhaps his memories were just foggy at the end … his mother long dead, her memories not strong in his mind … it could be anything, really …. repression, possibly … but, repression by an eight year old, wondering where his mom went, is different, I think, than repression of memories as an adult, when you do know what happened … repressing not understanding is different from repressing to forget pain.
At least, that’s how it seems to me….
surprisingly
his elder, younger siblings
had vivid memories
This is sad, but life is sad.
I’m slowly
learning to find
~
beauty
connection
in pain
in sadness
This is very touching
thanks
~
for reading
commenting