A year ago today, my father passed. The grieving that I thought I had done prior to his death as Alzheimer’s disease slowly stole him from us, continued over the past year and today I find myself just going through the motions. Swimming in wet cement, I like to call it. Functional, but just barely. Later today, my mother and one of my older brothers and I will iChat, our new favorite way to stay in touch. I’ll communicate the old fashioned way by telephone with other brothers who don’t have that capability.
Over Thanksgiving, I walked around my hometown and took pictures. On days like today I find myself thinking about home a lot, the physical/geographical as well as spiritual/psychological. I don’t think I have felt at home for many years now.
I found out purely by accident that an interview I did awhile back has been published in the October issue of A&U Magazine. The article was about the Black gay blogger campaign in response to the inclusion of certain homophobic Jamaican dancehall acts in an AIDS awareness concert planned for last summer. Unfortunately their website doesn’t have the article. I only learned of it when a former co-worker told me she saw it.
Similarly, I have reason to believe I am listed somewhere in Nyansapo, the publication of the National Black Justice Coalition. They requested a picture of me quite awhile back, but I have not seen anything. If anyone knows, please let me know.
3 comments ↓
I lost my father in the summer of 2005 and still cannot seem to let go. Recently I pulled out some pictures of him and I and reframed them in small 5 X 7 frames around the living room. For some reason the letting go turned into something else and I understand him and what it means to be male and of color is all about. Certain people especially family are eternal and never really die, life takes on a whole other level. More to say but I think you get me. You hang in there, my friend, it does get better.
Everything Troy said. Yes, it does get better. I always try to write about my pain.
It seems to help a great deal.
Hope the hurting has lessened.
In my experience, the periods of mourning have gotten shorter but it has never stopped. It doesn’t hurt as bad some days but other days it feels miserably unbearable.