Updated: Oct 15
Stubborn. That's one thing my mom stresses I am. It's true and not a secret. But stubborn implies being hot headed. So I prefer to think of myself as being willful. Same thing but different perspectives.
Pigeonholed as willful allows me to explain, or perhaps excuse, why its so difficult for me to let go of things. One of those things would be my grief, after dad's death, that is. During my old man's funeral, I distinctly recall wanting to spend a few more minutes by his side, but my escorts wouldn't allow it. With sheer force, they pulled me away from his coffin, as if they didn't sympathize. Surely they understood that was the last time I'd be seeing him, and a few more minutes by his side was warranted.
I didn't get the closure I wanted then, but perhaps (just maybe) after four long years, I can accept his going away and let my grief pass. What that means is still unclear to me. Without realizing it, my father was a big part of who I am. I did everything he instructed, explicit and implicit. Almost as if they were a safety net. Who do I look to now that dad's no more? Mom?.....no thanks; she has a weird sense of style. My brothers?....Hell no; they are more rivals than inspirators. Boyfriend?......I had one once; thought he was the answer but I was wrong.
So I suppose that leaves GOD. Vain as I am, with brutish eyes that cannot see HIM, I'll learn to trust that HE's there for me. That HE cries when I hurt. That HE laughs when I succeed. And that HE understands when I shout. That HE is more than a protector, provider, and guide, but that HE's a friend too!