You are not alone

It's sad when you reach out and there's no hand to hold. I have to remember that just because my senses don't register the Love around me, that doesn't mean it's not there.

Being There

"Can you sleep with me daddy? I'm afraid.."
"What are you afraid of?"
"I don't know...just stuff."
"What kind of stuff sweetheart?"
"Just stuff in my dream...don't know what it was. Will you stay with me?"
"I'll lie down with you for awhile baby. There's nothing to be afraid of, I'm right here. I'll always be here for you."

Sharing

This isn't about you.
To be perfectly honest, it's not about me either.

It's about sharing.

friday

I have a headache. I've been thinking too much. I set out today to organize my garage. It's a mess from two years of being displaced over and over again. Men don't start out as single dads, something has to happen to get them there.

When I separated from my wife, I packed up my stuff, garbage bag style, and moved to a house my brother in law owned and was remodeling to sell. His father and step mother lived there with me. A large portion of my things were being stored at my girlfriends house (more on that later) and the rest in the garage in the house I was at.

My whole life thrown into large black plastic bags and grocery store boxes. Mementos of my Mom and my time spent in the Corps. My boyscout neckerchief. The X Rays of my back from when I injured it. They used to have a place, but not anymore.

After a while, it was time to move out of the house I was in. The remodelling project was at the phase where it was impractical to live there anymore. So, once again, I had to gather up the items that I had accrued through life and move them somewhere else. Every time I was left alone, I cried. A terrible anguish would overtake me with every box I lifted. How could my life turn out like this? Why did this happen!? The pain subsided after awhile, after my things were placed in the garage of my rented house. I didn't pay much attention to how my things were stored...I just wanted to shut the door and try and cheer up. I did cheer up. Things were getting better.

Then I broke up with my girlfriend.

Remember the stuff at her house? I got to experience the grief all over again. This one was even worse for me though. I was not only relocating my belongings, I was relocating them from the place I was hoping they would stay for the rest of my life. Writing this is making me blurry eyed...sorry. Once I moved everything to their new home, there was little room to walk in the garage..."I'll organize it someday soon" I'd say to myself. A week...A month...A year went by. It's time. Get rid of the trash. Organize. Make the garage a useful space! I had completely forgotten about the reactions I had putting these things here. The complete sadness and feelings of failure. The pain wasn't as great this time, but it was still there.

I have a headache. I'm going to bed.

Blogging for the Functionally Illiterate

This is my first time writing for an audience. As time goes on, I hope what I write is at least a little interesting. I'm looking forward to sharing the things I learn and the experiences I've had. If you're reading this because of a link on Twitter, then you know who I'm related to. I won't be writing a tell all gotcha kind of thing about my sister and her wonderful husband, so don't look for that kind of content.

I can't wait to see what happens next!

Mo