And the Beat Goes On

I returned from almost two weeks in the US just yesterday. We had a funeral mass with his family. I was surprised that my family showed up, even after I had asked them not to. It was nice to see them, I guess. What was hardest to take was the boy he had adopted when he was married to his first wife came. I was glad to see him, although seeing him as a man was a bit of a shock. The last time I saw him, he was about 15 years old.

This young man has had a very hard way to go, but I must say, that I am very proud of the way he has turned his life around. He got his GED after dropping out of High School, he has a respectable job, and he has dreams for his future. I am worried about him, though. He was really devastated. He blames himself for the distance that was between he and his father, even though most of it was engineered by his mother. I really do care deeply about him and I plan on keeping in touch with him. Hopefully, it will be a benefit to him (and to me).

Me and MY family, well we've never been that close. There are grand nephews that I had never seen before the funeral. I don't understand how they think that just because we're family that they can manufacture some kind of intimacy. We just don't have that kind of connection, I guess, and considering I live half a world away and have no plans on moving back to the US any time soon, I don't expect to.

One thing I'd like to talk about here is the concept of "gut punches". Everyone talks about getting through the major "holidays"...Valentines (coming up very soon), Christmas, New Years, Thanksgiving, birthdays. Yes, I anticipate that they will be hard days to get through, but no one ever talks about those other little reminders that your mate is gone.

While I was back in the states, I went shopping for a new laptop. I wanted one that was smaller and lighter as the one I have is huge and bloody heavy and really hurts to schlep through airports. I was doing fine till I realized that I really DON'T need a new laptop. There's no reason to have one because there's no one at home to communicate with. I went out to the car and sobbed for quite a while. Likewise, I realized that I didn't need to bother with a phone card as there was no one to call at home. Stupid things like cookware..."Nope, that's too big, I'm only cooking for me now". Little bits like that, coming to grips with the new life that I've been thrown into, really hurt. They hurt like getting a surprise punch in the guts. You're not prepared for it and it can drive you to your knees.

It's tough to have it literally hammered home that you are no longer part of something. Something that was beautiful and strong and safe and warm. It's hard to realize that you are now a solo act.