Reassessment
I’ve come back to Tumblr. Glad to know you’re all still here, that the space is still welcoming. I missed you guys.
2011 was chaotic. January 2012 was hell.
I can’t tell you most of it, much as I’d like to, as cathartic as it would be to scream my confusion into the blogosphere. Isn’t that what this space is for - community, sharing, personal narrative, and seeking out that magical “you are not alone” moment when someone reads your words?
It’s precisely because I am not alone that I must remain silent.
Telling you my story is my choice. Telling you someone else’s story is a distasteful and unfair violation of privacy. And therein lies the line that all writers bump up against day after day, measuring the potential costs of tapping into someone else’s delicate veins.
So, suffice to say that everything in my life has turned upside down.
Let’s say life is one of these (as seen in Laura)…
In September of last year, the gods above took hold of my little game and shook it hard, unseating all my wee steel balls to roll around, banging against each other and everything else. Then, just when I dared to think things might have settled down, the same gods seized January 2012 as a perfect opportunity to seal all of the holes closed, so that my beads are now left without any hope of finding their proper places again.
In the game of trinket baseball, my players can never again go home.
I have tried, I continue to try, to be bitter, to be angry, to rage at the universe for kicking me out of my comfortable complacency. But…
Confession: even as it was happening, I knew that it was for the best. I have been immensely, unspeakably sad. I look down the road ahead and know that the immediate future brings only more tears, more sorrow, more loss. But at the end, at the turn of the road that is just so tantalizingly around the corner… I know it’s for the best.
And now this is the part where I offer you the tried and true clichéd observation: I am both terrified and exhilarated. And it’s true.
Meantime…
My father died on January 6, 2012.
Dad’s knowledge of Napoleonic History was so vast he could tell you Robespierre’s dog’s name (Bruant).Much of January’s weirdness was set in motion by my father’s death. But some lovely things did happen: my mother and I discovered just how close we really are, and my mother and Tao found a lovely relationship that will sustain them both for many years to come. Silver linings.
I haven’t yet had a chance to decide what my father’s passing means to me, so I won’t attempt to offer some sort of eulogy. I will say that he lived a rich, full life, that he died in the manner he’d hoped to at age 81, and that the outpouring of sorrow and affection from so many people is a true tribute to the man he was.
Bye, Dad. I hope you’ve found a quiet, well-stocked place to read with big squashy chairs, a fire, and good company.
Peace.
cross-posted at njaron.com







