Disappointments from childhood are the most complicated to unpack. I say this without reservation and with total authority.
“Closeup Caterpillar On A Green Leaf” courtesy of iamharin / FreeDigitalPhotos.net”.
When I was twelve, my mother was diagnosed with a (then) rare but very treatable form of cancer. It shook us all to our core since she was the one who “lived clean”–juxtaposed against my Dad–she had no history of drinking, didn’t smoke, avoided the sun. We found out that it had also metastasized (spread) and she was going to have to have surgery to remove the cancer and aggressive treatments of iodine therapy to remove anything left. During iodine therapy she couldn’t have visitors and couldn’t touch certain types of people so I could not see her. The therapy coincided with a pre-planned annual vacation we were to take, so my father decided instead of being home and not visiting my mother we would go and I would bring a friend with me.
I’ve got about two or three posts in various stages of completion. This makes me feel very unbalanced and unorganized– a physical manifestation of how I am being pulled between many different places, themes, needs and all of them need a voice, none of them have my complete attention for long enough… Many would call this a luxury problem and they would probably be right on some level.
Weddings still get to me. I imagine they always will. Every kind of wedding from a small family affair to the Real Housewives of Beverly Hills. It’s not because of the joy or anticipation of watching two people join lives–although that is also lovely. Seeing a father walk his daughter down the aisle, lovingly give her over to an officiant and her betrothed and kiss her for the last time as his little girl. Then watching a father/daughter dance is another tear-jerker… Ok, its more of a sob fest.