Notes from Underground

It's easiest to cry when you are alone.

Although, I am no longer ashamed of tears. I cry when I am walking home, or in the car, or at the store. I cry during lectures and I cry laying on my Dad's bed. I smile too, though. I think that is what makes it okay. I smile while scooping ice cream or finding the perfect bracelet for a granddaughter. I smile when I walk, or while I am in the car, or while I am shopping at the grocery store. I dial 668-5622 over and over again, which makes me feel crazy, but it's just nice to hear is voice on the answering machine sometime. See, he still exist. He's just not here. Just because he is not here doesn't make his things go away or his love any less real. Which brings me to Dostoevsky.

There is enjoyment in pain and suffering.

It's what makes us human. If there was no sadness there would be no happiness. Every tear I try to count. It's hard to count how many times you love someone. I try not to wipe the tear stains from my face. I want to see that in the mirror. It shows my love. If I was not heart broken right now I would either have no love for my Dad or be dead. And for him, and for my love for him. I will cry. I will be strong but that doesn't mean I can't cry. If I didn't feel I would not be alive, and for that, this is why humans must feel pain. To live.
So there is something right about the Underground Man, as much as I would not like to be him. We must take our grief seriously. There is something real about it.

But it's still easiest to cry when you are alone.

Expectations

I guess you can't have expectations.

Is an expectation a dream? A dream of what you think or want to happen? If so, you can't dream either.

So this is my life.

And I want you to know that I am

both happy and sad and I'm

still trying to figure out

how that could be.

The Passing of Time

All of the sudden I am aware of the passing of time.
Like how long a tear takes to form in your eye,  then fall down your face.
How long it takes to get in a car, and drive.
How long it takes to pray.
I am all of the sudden aware of how old I am.
Like how long nineteen years is.
How short nineteen years really is.
How short one week is in the scale of things.

I realize that it does not take long to stop breathing.
For hearts to stop.
I realize that it takes a very long time to train to win the gold in the olympics.
How short the olympics are in the scale of things.
That winning is short.
And that losing is everything.

All of the sudden I am aware of the passing of life.
I am aware that life passes away,
slips through our fingers like sands in an hour glass.
I am aware of that.
I am aware that you can not choose how many days
how many hours
how many minutes and seconds you have to live.

I realize that sometimes you do not go home.
I realize that sometimes you have to say goodbye.
I realize that.
I realize that it takes one second for a smile to disappear.
And it takes days for it to return.
I realize that.

I am suddenly aware of Luck.
Or Coincidences.
Or Miracles.
And I don't care which it is because I am grateful for all three.
I am aware of this.

On Tuesday July 31st 2012 it was hard.
It was hard to type.
But just minutes after I tried,
He died.
And then it was harder.
I realize this.
I am ashamed of this.

But being aware of this passing of time,
I know that time runs out here,
and I cannot wait to get There,
where time is infinite,
and where We are infinite.
I am aware of this.

I am suddenly aware that heros never die.