...respect is just the minimum...


life's a bitch....

My mother has many rules. One of the most important that she consistently reminds us of is: "never go to sleep angry" (meaning, if you have a fight with someone, she believes that before you go to bed..you need to reach an understanding even if it's agreeing to disagree). Her rationale: if something were to happen to that person you would forever be filled with the regret of things ending on uncertain terms.

This is something she has instilled in my brother and I since we were children. I remember sometime in my teen years having a huge argument with my mom over something silly. So silly that at this moment I can't even recall what we argued about. The thing I do remember is that even after we had parted and I had stormed into my room where I remained for the rest of the afternoon into the evening; before going to bed she came into my room to give me a kiss and tell me she loved me and remind me 'never go to sleep angry'.

My father and I have always bucked heads, primarily because he seems to live by the rule 'do as I say, not as I do' and also because he holds the typical west indian male view that he is always right and is the only knowledgeable person. I can show him a blue sheet of paper and he'll insist it's green. Despite this, we've always gotten along. I've always been the one in the family to keep him in check, remind him that he isn't always right and have always tried to encourage him to realize that there are more opinions in the world than just his. Needless to say, I reached a boiling point in November 2003. We had a huge fight one night, over something which I will admit was trivial. Now as I mentioned above, my mother has always instilled in us that we should never go to sleep angry. I humbled myself and went to him that night before going to bed to talk about it; however, he chose to brush me off. I think that brush off and the manner in which he brushed me off lead me to snap. Next month will mark one year since I completely blocked him out. We live in the same house. We co-exist. We exchange formalities: good morning, good night, hello. Outside of that, there is no involvement. My mom is aware of the situation. She and I almost fell out as well because it really irritates me to hear her come at me about going to him to talk when she was there when I made that effort and witnessed his brush off. Now that I think of it, the term brush off sounds like it was gentle when in actuality he slammed the door in my face. I made a second attempt and got the same response. So I stopped trying. He's aware of how I feel, so I had to ask my mother whether she has approached him about the situation. She had no response.

These last couple weeks have been so difficult. I'll admit that I've resorted to turning to the wrong vices to deal with a lot of this shit. I'm job hunting like crazy because I can't deal with the inconsistency of being an independent consultant so early in my career. I got bills like crazy. I feel like I'm still trying to establish my identity. I'm trying to increase my independence. Then I get hit with the possibility that my father just may have prostate cancer. Like I said above, life's a bitch. When my mom first told me about this I was all positive with her emphasizing that supposedly prostate cancer has a high recovery rate if caught early...blah..blah..blah... But lately, I've just had moments where my eyes fill with tears. Like right now. Despite everything, I love my father and I know that he loves me. I feel blessed knowing that. But I don't think I'm in a place right now where I'm ready to deal with the implications that accompany the possibility of cancer. But then, is anyone..ever..?

This is becoming quite lengthy, but it's been pent up in me for over a month now.

So right now, he's on a waiting list to see a specialist who has to do additional testing to determine whether it is prostate cancer. I hate waiting.

rotating...Amel Larrieux: We Can Be New


  • At Mon. Sep. 27, 03:23:00 p.m. EDT, Blogger jirzygurl said…

    I guess you see the logic and wisdom in your mother instilling that practice with you guys. I hope you and your father patch things up and I will keep you both in my prayers.

  • At Thu. Sep. 30, 12:27:00 a.m. EDT, Blogger Jazz said…

    There is a peace to what your mom is saying. My mom died in 94. She wasn't ill. We were home from college for spring break. We woke up one morning and she was gone. The doctors said that she had an asthma attack in her sleep that enduced a massive heart attack. She looked so peaceful. She looked like God woke her up and she went with him, peacefully and willingly. The last thing I said to her the night before she left this world was, "I LOVE U MAMA!" and the last thing I ever heard her say to me was, "I LOVE U, TOO BABY."


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