"I remember, growing up... At night, my dad would sit in the kitchen with all the lights out. And he would wait for me to come in. And he would sit there and drink. And I would stand in the driveway and look in through the screen door and I could see the light from his cigarette. And then I'd rush up on the porch and try to get by him. He would always call me back. And it was like he was always, always angry, always mad. He would be sitting there thinking about everything he was never gonna have, until he would get me thinking like that too. And I'd lay up in my bed at night and be staring at the ceiling. And I'd feel like if something didn't happen, if something didn't happen soon. I felt like I was just gonna, like someday, I was just gonna..." --Prelude to a song by Bruce Springsteen
The first time I saw that video and heard those words, and the emotion that went with them, I felt such a sense of deja vu. Like he was speaking words that could have come from my mouth, telling my story from long ago. I swear it was exactly the same when I was growing up, after my mom died. My dad would do the same thing, sit there at the kitchen table in the dark, smoking and drinking. And I would come home and stand outside watching the glow of that cigarette, hoping he would go to bed before I went in, but sometimes he just sat there so I would go in and hope to get past him, but that rarely happened. And he was always angry, always mad and always hopeless. And I too would lay up in my bed and start to feel the same way, and just like Springsteen I would think, "if something didn't happen, if something didn't happen soon, I was gonna..."
It was a hard time in my life, but I grew up and moved away and life went on for a long time and things happened, good and bad as they do in life.
Years later, when I was grown and I was much closer to my dad, he told me that after mom died, and he was left with a pack of kids to raise alone, that people would always ask him how the kids were doing, how they were getting along since mom was gone. But no one ever asked him how he was doing. He said he wished that just one person would have cared enough to ask him how he himself was doing, but no one ever did.
I understand him now, I understand his anger, his despair, his broken heart.
I wish I had known what he was going through back then. I wish I had understood. But I was a kid, I didn't know. I was in too much pain myself to see the pain of another.
I'm happy to know that he healed from that pain, he stopped drinking, he met someone later in his life, someone beautiful who took his pain and despair away, someone who gave him eight years of happiness before he passed away. Someone who was a true companion to him.
And isn't that what we all need? Not just love, not just sex, but someone who would be a real true companion, through the good and the bad. Someone who cares to ask "how are YOU doing?"
I won't find that here in the Twilight Zone, I thought I might, but jokes on me! But that's okay, I think I know where to look now.
(Just some thoughts of mine tonight as I sit here, not in the dark, not smoking and drinking, but wishing for the same thing he wished for).
Love you guys, always will.
(These are not simple words, but I chose to put them here because here is the best page for them, somewhere a bit more private than my other pages.)
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