Cafe Hitch-hike


That's the way it was, that's the way it is

The doldrums. Although I feel it from time-to-time, I have to remind myself that things in my immediate life are doing quite well. Little drama is a good thing. Of course, if I ever need any, there's places I can go for that.

Here's a pretty find... This song reminds me the walks I took with Copperas in Nijmegen: the one that began on the labyrinth next to the River Waal, passing by an older woman walking her 2 miniature dachshunds through the woods (of course I was excited to see Marley's kin), and meeting the lean, 69 year-old man who was preparing to hike the Pacific Northwest Trail.

Some of my family is gathering in Florida towards the end of the month, and this includes 2 sisters who are feuding. One sister (Beads) is coming to remember her daughter's death a year ago, while another decided to join her but with a different plan in mind. My mother is supposed to be visiting, too, and we both were concerned about the strife and talked about this today.

I didn't realize I was disappointed after I talked to a buddy about this earlier today. I don't get to spend much time with my sisters and wished they weren't fighting during their visit. I already have to drive almost 4 hours to see them, and now there's a heightened threat of drama. At least I can see them for a little while and have more time than what I normally would had. They are just going to come as they are, and I'll take it from there.

I then talked to my mom for a bit about something I gathered from my younger siblings. Their father died 3 years ago, and they've told me their feelings about him. They felt they didn't have much of a connection with him and that he never tried hard to have a relationship with them (I agree with them), and they longed to have one. When I talked to one of my sisters last week, she remarked that he had a cold heart; I replied that I remembered him quite well for that.

The issue that comes up is when my mother drunk texts or posts, she refers to us as "Little (Surname of Father)s." My siblings told me over the years that they hated being called Little Lotzschultzes, so I told Mom about this. It didn't seem like my siblings talked about this to our mother. Anyhow, I did this as a preventative measure. The last thing I wanted to happen was the meltdown that would take place if Mom called sis Beads a Little Lotzschultz while the alcohol flowed.

Maybe this came about as my siblings' response to their own grief. It rearranges what we knew about someone (or something) and often clarifies and reorganizes it. We can grieve for what we used to have but is no longer around, or for what was and its harsh reality, or for what we never had in the first place. I wonder if my siblings are feeling more of the last 2.

I'm glad they trusted me enough to tell me their feelings. I've agreed with their perceptions but didn't want to feed their anger or whatever they were feeling. I just wanted to acknowledge I saw the same things although he was not my father. They don't need to deny or softpedal any of it. Why? Overcoming any denial is where they can openly describe how they feel and hopefully work with it, or try to live more comfortably with the uncomfortable feelings that can't go away. I ultimately hope and pray that my siblings can find a sense of peace towards this.

I think another part is I'm able to handle my own feelings about him and his presence in our lives better than I had in the past. It used to make me feel so dismal, hopeless, and sad. If they feel or felt anything like that, I'd like them to see I believe and understand them, and hope they can find a semblance of resolution.

It makes me think of that dream of a few weeks ago where I shot my stepfather in the leg, both in self-defense and with the intention of sending a warning. In the dream, I was able to stand up to him and tell him to stop being an abusive prick (both with the underlying truth that I willingly spared his life). I wasn't thinking about my younger brother and sisters, but now I wonder what this dream could mean for the rest of them.

The next thing that came to mind: this was the first time anyone or anything conclusively made a move that defended and even avenged us (and focused on what he did, rather than the answer be for us to be removed from him or out of his sight). It only happened in a dream and after he died. So maybe even that wasn't too late?

downwind | upstream