All I leave behind me..
is only - what I found
I posted a few pictures of the recent family gathering in Mammoth Lakes, attended by my parents, younger brother, daughter - and of course - yours truly. I didn't write about it - until now - because honestly, I didn't know what to say. We seemed to get along well - and I just made it a point to tune out the private discussions excluding me - as if you are one to be offended by rude and inappropriate behavior, than my family is not the place to be - all I know is the subject matter must have been real important if I was to be excluded from those meetings. But never mind - not dwelling on that - we did get along - nothing was brought up regarding past conflicts - it was real polite and on the surface - the way it is supposed to be. These elderly fragile people who have their various physical ailments to contend with - it is hard to believe these were the same loud, intimidating angry people I grew up with - but somehow they were one and the same. Sara got very attached very quickly - particularly to my brother Dan - props to him for making the effort to interact with her, and cried just about all the way back home, prompting me to join her for a little bit, but more than anything - I felt a strong sense of relief when it was over.
So as fate would have it, I found myself driving back to Mammoth Lakes and Bishop for an overnight trip just this last Tuesday. There was a strong sense that this run may be one of my last trips down this way for a long time - although one never really knows, but just going on a feeling anyways. I debated whether or not it was worth staying over, but after driving almost 600 miles in two days, a little break between travels to sleep never hurts. So it was on the fateful Wednesday morning that I got up from my room at Quality Inn. I normally exercise, but there was no exercise room or swimming pool there, so I decided to go for a little walk. I headed out on Mono Street - just seeing where the road would take me, and not knowing where I was going - ended up very quickly approaching Minaret Road, not far from Sunshine Village, the condominium complex where all of us had stayed just two weeks earlier. I walked around the front office, near the pool (now in ruins due to some kind of mishap involving cracking of the concrete) and I slowly started walking down the hill toward unit 224, where we had all stayed.
And then slowly but surely - without warning - a feeling started creeping up on me - and before I knew it, I was experiencing an incredible feeling of mourning and grief. I almost expected to see my parents and brother there, but they were gone. Our family - having the issues we all do - whether we choose to discuss them or not - is a family filled with pain and hurt. Some families are close - both physically and emotionally, but there is a great distance in ours. None of us are really that close to each other, although we sometimes go through the motions of it. At these gatherings, we pretend to be a family again, before we all go off our own ways and forget about each other. I get along great with my brother when I see him, but once he is gone we rarely communicate - it is just the way it is. Maybe my fault for treating him like crap when I was young, or maybe I was just re-enacting out how I was treated and rolling the shit down hill to the lowest point it could go. Even so - I can understand why he is reluctant to want to get too close - and I can't even blame him for it. During our gathering - I had all my defenses up - because I knew this little gathering would come and go, that we would go from pretending to being a family to retreating into our corners again, and those defenses held up pretty well - even when Sara was crying her eyes out in the truck. Was she living out my grief on some level? Maybe. How do you explain to a kid that a family that acts real close for two days, will disappear and never be seen or heard from for months, if not years to come? Part of it may be our society - the extended family is gone - and some are lucky enough to be near theirs, but our family has lived out the isolated and disconnected sense of alienation to the fullest.
So anyways - when my grief hit me walking by, seeing everyone gone - the sadness was overwhelming. It is awkward to be walking down the streets with tears streaming down your face, but that is exactly what I was doing. In spite of everything, all the hurt, anger, conflicts between my parents and my wife that came close to bringing me to divorce - despite all the hard feelings - I missed them all. I had put up my defenses so effectively that I didn't even know how much I missed them until I walked by the empty condominium unit. I know - my parents think I am counting the days until they die so I can inherit the vast family estate. I will admit - and confess here - that there were times I was so upset at them, maybe I did have a feeling of wanting them gone at the peaks of my hurt and anger. But in a wave of grief it became clear to me, that they were not only gone from the present location, but that the day is coming - sooner than later - when they really are going to die - one at a time - most likely I am going to outlive them - and if what I experienced that morning is any indication of it - I am going to really miss them. Maybe they have brought a lot of misery into my life at times, but they still are my parents. They are going to die, and at some point I am going to follow them down the same road - and the notion of the impermanence and fleeting aspect of life really seemed to slap my face in a way I did not expect.
Analyzing it further - what else made me so sad? That it had to be what it was - my past - my upbringing - the disfunctional family - the longing to really have a family close by - a family that I never really had - was I grieving for that family that I wanted, but never experienced? Is this what I was chasing with all of the Grateful Dead concerts I attended? I believe so. I think we have a natural need to have a family, be part of a close family - a family structure - an extended family is a need - an essential - that many of us for one reason or another are deprived of. Even now I wish we are all closer - but can I make something happen that was never meant to be there? As we all started pushing each other way, was there any way for me to stop it from happening? I don't think so. Could it have been any different? No. Would I have given everything to make it be different - yes. But it is what it is. Now I have my only little family as my priority and we have our own disfunctional issues we inherited - along with the "cheerful gene" - to contend with. Can I do better than my parents? I hope so - but like them - I have my limitations - passed on from generation to generation - and now my daughter is experiencing her own issues - in part courtesy of my own behaviors. Still - I try to remain optimistic. I have spent a lot of time looking in - reading - in therapy and my last therapist told me very sincerely that she was very impressed with all the work I have done on myself. I don't know myself inside out, but I get to know myself every day - and in spite of all of the darkness, I am learning to accept and love myself for who I am, nothing more, and nothing less.
So - on the drive back home that day - I listened to Miles of Aisles by Joni Mitchell - and this particular verse, once again - sent those tears back down my cheeks:
And the seasons they go round and round
And the painted ponies go up and down
We're captive on the carousel of time
We can't return we can only look behind
From where we came
And go round and round and round
In the circle game
I posted a few pictures of the recent family gathering in Mammoth Lakes, attended by my parents, younger brother, daughter - and of course - yours truly. I didn't write about it - until now - because honestly, I didn't know what to say. We seemed to get along well - and I just made it a point to tune out the private discussions excluding me - as if you are one to be offended by rude and inappropriate behavior, than my family is not the place to be - all I know is the subject matter must have been real important if I was to be excluded from those meetings. But never mind - not dwelling on that - we did get along - nothing was brought up regarding past conflicts - it was real polite and on the surface - the way it is supposed to be. These elderly fragile people who have their various physical ailments to contend with - it is hard to believe these were the same loud, intimidating angry people I grew up with - but somehow they were one and the same. Sara got very attached very quickly - particularly to my brother Dan - props to him for making the effort to interact with her, and cried just about all the way back home, prompting me to join her for a little bit, but more than anything - I felt a strong sense of relief when it was over.
So as fate would have it, I found myself driving back to Mammoth Lakes and Bishop for an overnight trip just this last Tuesday. There was a strong sense that this run may be one of my last trips down this way for a long time - although one never really knows, but just going on a feeling anyways. I debated whether or not it was worth staying over, but after driving almost 600 miles in two days, a little break between travels to sleep never hurts. So it was on the fateful Wednesday morning that I got up from my room at Quality Inn. I normally exercise, but there was no exercise room or swimming pool there, so I decided to go for a little walk. I headed out on Mono Street - just seeing where the road would take me, and not knowing where I was going - ended up very quickly approaching Minaret Road, not far from Sunshine Village, the condominium complex where all of us had stayed just two weeks earlier. I walked around the front office, near the pool (now in ruins due to some kind of mishap involving cracking of the concrete) and I slowly started walking down the hill toward unit 224, where we had all stayed.
And then slowly but surely - without warning - a feeling started creeping up on me - and before I knew it, I was experiencing an incredible feeling of mourning and grief. I almost expected to see my parents and brother there, but they were gone. Our family - having the issues we all do - whether we choose to discuss them or not - is a family filled with pain and hurt. Some families are close - both physically and emotionally, but there is a great distance in ours. None of us are really that close to each other, although we sometimes go through the motions of it. At these gatherings, we pretend to be a family again, before we all go off our own ways and forget about each other. I get along great with my brother when I see him, but once he is gone we rarely communicate - it is just the way it is. Maybe my fault for treating him like crap when I was young, or maybe I was just re-enacting out how I was treated and rolling the shit down hill to the lowest point it could go. Even so - I can understand why he is reluctant to want to get too close - and I can't even blame him for it. During our gathering - I had all my defenses up - because I knew this little gathering would come and go, that we would go from pretending to being a family to retreating into our corners again, and those defenses held up pretty well - even when Sara was crying her eyes out in the truck. Was she living out my grief on some level? Maybe. How do you explain to a kid that a family that acts real close for two days, will disappear and never be seen or heard from for months, if not years to come? Part of it may be our society - the extended family is gone - and some are lucky enough to be near theirs, but our family has lived out the isolated and disconnected sense of alienation to the fullest.
So anyways - when my grief hit me walking by, seeing everyone gone - the sadness was overwhelming. It is awkward to be walking down the streets with tears streaming down your face, but that is exactly what I was doing. In spite of everything, all the hurt, anger, conflicts between my parents and my wife that came close to bringing me to divorce - despite all the hard feelings - I missed them all. I had put up my defenses so effectively that I didn't even know how much I missed them until I walked by the empty condominium unit. I know - my parents think I am counting the days until they die so I can inherit the vast family estate. I will admit - and confess here - that there were times I was so upset at them, maybe I did have a feeling of wanting them gone at the peaks of my hurt and anger. But in a wave of grief it became clear to me, that they were not only gone from the present location, but that the day is coming - sooner than later - when they really are going to die - one at a time - most likely I am going to outlive them - and if what I experienced that morning is any indication of it - I am going to really miss them. Maybe they have brought a lot of misery into my life at times, but they still are my parents. They are going to die, and at some point I am going to follow them down the same road - and the notion of the impermanence and fleeting aspect of life really seemed to slap my face in a way I did not expect.
Analyzing it further - what else made me so sad? That it had to be what it was - my past - my upbringing - the disfunctional family - the longing to really have a family close by - a family that I never really had - was I grieving for that family that I wanted, but never experienced? Is this what I was chasing with all of the Grateful Dead concerts I attended? I believe so. I think we have a natural need to have a family, be part of a close family - a family structure - an extended family is a need - an essential - that many of us for one reason or another are deprived of. Even now I wish we are all closer - but can I make something happen that was never meant to be there? As we all started pushing each other way, was there any way for me to stop it from happening? I don't think so. Could it have been any different? No. Would I have given everything to make it be different - yes. But it is what it is. Now I have my only little family as my priority and we have our own disfunctional issues we inherited - along with the "cheerful gene" - to contend with. Can I do better than my parents? I hope so - but like them - I have my limitations - passed on from generation to generation - and now my daughter is experiencing her own issues - in part courtesy of my own behaviors. Still - I try to remain optimistic. I have spent a lot of time looking in - reading - in therapy and my last therapist told me very sincerely that she was very impressed with all the work I have done on myself. I don't know myself inside out, but I get to know myself every day - and in spite of all of the darkness, I am learning to accept and love myself for who I am, nothing more, and nothing less.
So - on the drive back home that day - I listened to Miles of Aisles by Joni Mitchell - and this particular verse, once again - sent those tears back down my cheeks:
And the seasons they go round and round
And the painted ponies go up and down
We're captive on the carousel of time
We can't return we can only look behind
From where we came
And go round and round and round
In the circle game
posted by Zook at 8:32 PM
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