I listen to Neil Young. Bear with me now.
I listen to the familiarity of memory, the companionship of my father. He died when I was 18 years old. He didn't die from a freak accident. Anyway, what's negative is unimportant. What is important is that I loved him incredibly. I'm his son, why not. We had a camaraderie that I can't seem to replace. I look all over. I have multiple false father figures. I have surging deep level sadness come up to swallow me at inopportune moments.
I feel as if I am in a stasis, and all of this is shrouded in a like bullshit therapy session overlay, and that's just what it is. there is no conclusion.
Because even though I can come close to feeling him when I listen this particularly Neil young--music he wasn't even alive to hear, but which holds the very essence of how he acted--I can never get him back. Ever. I can't come to grips with that. I've never been able to come to grips with it. I just don't know how you do, you know, actually like replace the loss that is so fucking huge.
Anyway. I like to cry because it allows me the momentary release and the true real felt emotion that I so rarely actually feel. I cry rarely.
"What are you trying to prove. Trying to get closer but not too close. Trying to get through. You're invisible. Nobody can touch you now. I can touch you now."
1 comment:
I'm sorry you lost your father so long ago. I know a little bit about how you feel, but I've only felt it for about two years since my dad died. And my father died because he was sick, so that makes it different too. Anyways, found your blog about six months ago. That's when I quit drinking in support of my husband who also quit bc it was becoming a big problem. I just wanted to say thanks, let you know someone out here appreciates what you are writing. I'm sorry you miss your dad so much. I guess you/we always will, some days it just feels good to cry really hard though. Keep listening to Neil.
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