its an essay i wrote for my college english class.. its pretty self explanitory
- 'The Couch' by Alanis Moressette
I've long been a fan of Alanis Moressette and though I've listened to all of her music I don't truly hear it until it applies to me. This is definitely one of those songs.
July 4, 1999. John Martin Reservoir. Fireworks, glow sticks, and BBQ. Swimming, laughing, and crying. Crying? Yes. Regret? Yes. Comforting? Yes. Forgiving? I only wish I could say 'yes'.
A typical 4th of July celebration for families includes most of that. But I'm not typical, nor do I have a typical family.
The day at John Martin Reservoir had come to a close. My mind was still running from the multitude of emotions felt that night. Mostly confusion.
Confusion about why I was there at the dam with my dad. Confusion because Mother seemed to go out of her way to convert my love for my dad into over abundant love for her. Confusion because my drug-addicted, abusive dad still loved me and apologized for what he had done. Confusion because I was elbowed by my sister when I was asked why he left if he regretted it so much. Confusion because Mother acted as if she forgave him though even then, I knew better. But mostly confusion because I'd never seen my daddy cry.
My mother insisted that we should leave since my daddy had gone to bed in the camper. Vanessa, my sister, and best friend to this day and my mother were getting into the car and loading up. I knew it was a risky question but I still asked my mother if I could say 'g'night' to daddy. After a debate with her and Vanessa, I could go... but it had to be 'quick'.
As I tromped through the dried brush to the front of the camper, my mind was focused on making this 'quick'.
Darnai and her children were sitting outside and so I asked her,
"Darnai, can I say goodnight to my dad?"
"Well, he's asleep," she drunkenly slurred at me.
"I'll be quiet, I promise."
"Okay. Just don't wake him up."
"Okay, thank you."
I climbed up the steps and through the open doors to find my daddy asleep on the bed. The camper was filled with the scent of campfires and mosquito spray, but there was something else there too. Something welcoming. Something familiar. It was the smell I associate with safety. It was my daddy's scent.
Knowingly breaking my promise, I woke him up and told him goodbye and that I loved him.
'Love you, Punkin.' Were the last words I'd ever hear him speak because he died exactly 11 months later on June 4, 2000.
Mother has drifted away and weather she'll ever admit it, I know that part of the reason is that I remind her of my father.
"You reminded her so much of your father so you were banished and you wonder why you're so hypersensitive and why you can't trust anyone but us, but then how can I begin to forgive her? With so many years under bridges with dirty water?"
Words by sacred_tears
Read 655 times
Written on 2005-09-09 at 05:01
Tags Grief
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Love you, Punkin'
"You hadn't seen your father in such a long time, he died in the arms of his lover – how dare he?, Your mother never left the house, she never married anyone else, you took it upon yourself to console her, you reminded her so much of your father so you were banished and you wonder why you're so hypersensitive and why you can't trust anyone but us, but then how can I begin to forgive her? With so many years under bridges with dirty water-she was foolish and selfish and cowardly if you ask me"- 'The Couch' by Alanis Moressette
I've long been a fan of Alanis Moressette and though I've listened to all of her music I don't truly hear it until it applies to me. This is definitely one of those songs.
July 4, 1999. John Martin Reservoir. Fireworks, glow sticks, and BBQ. Swimming, laughing, and crying. Crying? Yes. Regret? Yes. Comforting? Yes. Forgiving? I only wish I could say 'yes'.
A typical 4th of July celebration for families includes most of that. But I'm not typical, nor do I have a typical family.
The day at John Martin Reservoir had come to a close. My mind was still running from the multitude of emotions felt that night. Mostly confusion.
Confusion about why I was there at the dam with my dad. Confusion because Mother seemed to go out of her way to convert my love for my dad into over abundant love for her. Confusion because my drug-addicted, abusive dad still loved me and apologized for what he had done. Confusion because I was elbowed by my sister when I was asked why he left if he regretted it so much. Confusion because Mother acted as if she forgave him though even then, I knew better. But mostly confusion because I'd never seen my daddy cry.
My mother insisted that we should leave since my daddy had gone to bed in the camper. Vanessa, my sister, and best friend to this day and my mother were getting into the car and loading up. I knew it was a risky question but I still asked my mother if I could say 'g'night' to daddy. After a debate with her and Vanessa, I could go... but it had to be 'quick'.
As I tromped through the dried brush to the front of the camper, my mind was focused on making this 'quick'.
Darnai and her children were sitting outside and so I asked her,
"Darnai, can I say goodnight to my dad?"
"Well, he's asleep," she drunkenly slurred at me.
"I'll be quiet, I promise."
"Okay. Just don't wake him up."
"Okay, thank you."
I climbed up the steps and through the open doors to find my daddy asleep on the bed. The camper was filled with the scent of campfires and mosquito spray, but there was something else there too. Something welcoming. Something familiar. It was the smell I associate with safety. It was my daddy's scent.
Knowingly breaking my promise, I woke him up and told him goodbye and that I loved him.
'Love you, Punkin.' Were the last words I'd ever hear him speak because he died exactly 11 months later on June 4, 2000.
Mother has drifted away and weather she'll ever admit it, I know that part of the reason is that I remind her of my father.
"You reminded her so much of your father so you were banished and you wonder why you're so hypersensitive and why you can't trust anyone but us, but then how can I begin to forgive her? With so many years under bridges with dirty water?"
Words by sacred_tears
Read 655 times
Written on 2005-09-09 at 05:01
Tags Grief
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text|
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