"with writing, we have second chances..."

i had a dream about my dad again.

i've been dreaming about him with startling frequency. it used to be he showed up here and there, an indiscriminate flash of lightning sounding off in my brain. but since i've moved, his ghost has established a thunderous baseline in my subconscious.

my relationship with my father was itself tempestuous. we fought regularly - he being a harsh critic of things done half-assed, and me being well, an ass most of the time.

naturally as a teen i couldn't see that. navigating the social land mines of my adolescent years was time consuming and miserable enough without adding his constant disapproval. for a while there, it felt as though i'd never please him. when i was in eighth grade, i'd easily managed all A's. after school, i eagerly threw my report card down on the table in a defiant, "see?". my father calmly folded it, leaned back in his chair and said, " i know you didn't try for these."

i wanted to throttle him. the word fuck had yet to pervade my daily vocabulary and there was nothing i could say that would satiate my rage, so i stood there silent and punishing before he spoke again. "when i was your age, i didn't have to try either. i never bothered to learn how to study and when i got to college, it bit me in the ass. don't let it bite you. what's it worth anyway if you don't have to fight for it?"

typical. thanks for the lesson, ass. it was just like him to be right about these sorts of things, but would a little blind optimism have killed him? probably, but a heart attack got there first.

in a week and a half, it will be eleven years since he died. time spent as my alter-ego, captain obvious, has led me to believe this is part of the reason why he's been making so many cameos on the selena sleepy time variety hour. i can also deduce that moving away from my family of friends required its own grieving process not unlike the process triggered by the loss of a loved one. but the main reason i think he's showing up is that deep down, i'm still trying to figure out if i please him.

the universe-imposed distance between us has allowed me to gain some objectivity about who were were then and who i am now. and while i still feel the sting of injustice at being robbed of a proper goodbye - at being robbed of his insight now that i am receptive to it, i do feel as though i've made progress in ways that he would be proud of. and though he never says so in my dreams, i wake up feeling peaceful. even when i wake up crying, i still feel peace, and i can only accept that as a sign that well, we might be ok.