Monday, March 29, 2004
This is about to get random. That's where I am. I'm in a state of randomness.
Should I feel guilty for going out and having fun?
Sometimes I do.
I had a really nice weekend. I went out dancing on Friday night. I went to my daddy's grave, my God daughter's birthday, and a barbeque with friends that night on Saturday. I went to the Wild Animal Park with my sister yesterday.
I could never forget my father. There are times when I'm consumed by the thing that I'm doing...but everyday, I think about him.
I'm going to Las Vegas this weekend. The first time I ever went to Vegas was with my family when I was very young. Then we went again when I could actually drink and gamble. I think my daddy got me my first drink at the slots, come to think about it. It was a pina colada with a little whipped cream on top. I was worried about drinking in front of my dad, but he didn't seem to mind. We stayed at the Excalibur hotel.
I guess the guilty feelings stem from my mother's guilt. My auntie (my dad's sister), my mother and I were talking on Saturday morning, and my mom asked me how I feel the loss as a daughter. I was glad she asked me because I often wondered if she thought about it.
I explained that the most overwhelming feeling as a daughter without my father is the loss of security. I used to have comfort knowing that when I called the house that either my mom or my dad would answer the phone. Or I would draw comfort by knowing that if I had a problem, that I had my dad to go to.
When I would go to my parent's house, I know that my dad would be watching TV in the living room, or if he wasn't there...that he would be arriving a little later that evening from a meeting. I would hear the door open, hear his keys jingle, and hear him put his briefcase down. I would yell out, "Hi daddy!" and he would say hi and ask me if I ate yet...he would ask me over and over, and I would get playfully annoyed because he did it on purpose. He would laugh and eat dinner before either joining us at the couch, or watching some boxing or wrestling match if he didn't like what we were watching. I would be there for a few hours with my parent's before going home. I would kiss my mom, then go kiss my daddy...he would ask me if I was going straight home, and I'd say yes.
He would always tell me to be careful, even though I only lived 15 minutes away...
The memories that flood back can be powerful and all I can do is catch my breath when they happen.
Should I feel guilty for going out and having fun?
Sometimes I do.
I had a really nice weekend. I went out dancing on Friday night. I went to my daddy's grave, my God daughter's birthday, and a barbeque with friends that night on Saturday. I went to the Wild Animal Park with my sister yesterday.
I could never forget my father. There are times when I'm consumed by the thing that I'm doing...but everyday, I think about him.
I'm going to Las Vegas this weekend. The first time I ever went to Vegas was with my family when I was very young. Then we went again when I could actually drink and gamble. I think my daddy got me my first drink at the slots, come to think about it. It was a pina colada with a little whipped cream on top. I was worried about drinking in front of my dad, but he didn't seem to mind. We stayed at the Excalibur hotel.
I guess the guilty feelings stem from my mother's guilt. My auntie (my dad's sister), my mother and I were talking on Saturday morning, and my mom asked me how I feel the loss as a daughter. I was glad she asked me because I often wondered if she thought about it.
I explained that the most overwhelming feeling as a daughter without my father is the loss of security. I used to have comfort knowing that when I called the house that either my mom or my dad would answer the phone. Or I would draw comfort by knowing that if I had a problem, that I had my dad to go to.
When I would go to my parent's house, I know that my dad would be watching TV in the living room, or if he wasn't there...that he would be arriving a little later that evening from a meeting. I would hear the door open, hear his keys jingle, and hear him put his briefcase down. I would yell out, "Hi daddy!" and he would say hi and ask me if I ate yet...he would ask me over and over, and I would get playfully annoyed because he did it on purpose. He would laugh and eat dinner before either joining us at the couch, or watching some boxing or wrestling match if he didn't like what we were watching. I would be there for a few hours with my parent's before going home. I would kiss my mom, then go kiss my daddy...he would ask me if I was going straight home, and I'd say yes.
He would always tell me to be careful, even though I only lived 15 minutes away...
The memories that flood back can be powerful and all I can do is catch my breath when they happen.
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