So here I am.
I've known for awhile now that I need to start writing out my thoughts and feelings and such, but finding that time is difficult when you work all day and have a family waiting for you when you get home.
I've done it in the past and actually enjoy it. There is just something... surreal if you will in the physical act of actually writing out your thoughts and feelings. I don't mean like I'm doing now.... typing... but actually physically writing. With a pen... I know it's quickly becoming a dieing art and I've even heard some schools are spending more time on typing classes than on penmanship. Go figure.
Anyway, I almost feel this sense of peace as I physically write. I even feel creative and artsy if you will. Granted not when I'm just using any pen. Ball points just don't cut it. It's gotta be a pen that uses real ink. The kind that stains the paper and bleeds through to the other side if you hold your stroke a little too long. Something with a fine fine point on it. It just feels like that ink leaving the pen is a release of the pain in my own heart and soul. Strange perhaps, but this is how I feel.
I thought about laying out some... soliloquy or diatribe all about me and my life and all those details etc to bring you up to this very moment of my life, but then... this isn't all about you. It's really not even all about me. So I'll just write, and if I keep coming back here and adding to it, and anyone keeps reading it, over time, you'll have a better picture of me and who I am, and the cause of the weight of pain and woundedness in my heart and soul.
Right now, in this moment, my heart aches for my dad. I miss him so very much. It's weird though. I can't even say we were close. There was always a distance between us, and like my wife says, he was 90 and had cancer, so you know the day was coming, but nothing, absolutely nothing can really prepare you for it. Not when he's still mentally aware and sharp as ever. I know for some people, when their loved ones have Alzheimer's it's a relief because they've already mourned the loss of their loved one, because truly the person they know and loved was gone a long time ago. But for me, my father is the man I always knew him to be.
My father was a brilliant man. I mean truly brilliant. Intelligence seems to be getting rarer and rarer these days, but my father was truly one of the most intelligent people I've ever known. He invented things. Things that are still used today. Ok granted, most of you out there don't ever come in contact with the things he created, but if you are into music... if you have an expensive amplifier, not the electronic kind, but the kind with the very best sound, the ones that still use vacuum tubes... you very likely have a piece of technology that my father created. We still have all the patent documents for all the various vacuum tubes he created while working for RCA and Westinghouse. Not only that, but my father was part of the team that created the radar systems the US Military employed at pearl harbor.
Man do I miss him. My heart utterly aches at his loss. There were times though that I was so angry with him. Angry because we weren't close. Angry because he didn't teach me the things he knew. He didn't teach me about electronics, although I watched him many times tinkering with things and soldering things and repairing things that most people tell you to just throw away and buy a new one. He didn't pass that on to me. He was also into woodworking. I watched him do that many times as well, and yet again... he never taught me. So many missed opportunities. So many things I can't possibly ever pass on to my own children.
I know my father and I are a lot alike. So I know that while you rarely ever saw feelings and emotions from him (short of anger) he actually felt his emotions very keenly and deeply. I do as well, but they rarely ever come out or at lease aren't easily visible for people around me. In learning about myself, I was able to learn that my father, and most of my family actually, are Autistic. Or at least "on the spectrum" as they say.
Hence my father's utter brilliance.
Hence the reason I feel like I'm utterly dieing on the inside, and yet on the out side, it seems like everything is just great.
Yes, I really do miss my dad.
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