Death day, Love day.
It is year three since his death. I struggle with my trauma, my insanity is a buffer. My love of others and self my driver to still yet become something more something continually better in the face of entropy and death. Time fades my memories or the emotions contained therein. I betray my own past experiences and resolutions because of it. I just breathe and be grateful I have breath. I just look on at the promising future of those I love and be grateful and I can feel that. I just fight myself and struggle to prove the good without the fairy tales of man.
I wrote this for my wife for valentines day tomorrow. I read past posts and realized I hadn't talked about her here. I had embraced singlehood and then irony struck in 2015 and I met again my second wife to be. It's been four years now, half the time of my first wife. I wonder if I will make it to that milestone this time. I wonder, if I do, how far I will go past. I wonder how long she will put up with me and I with her.
She is different, of course, then my first wife. She also knows the sting of being betrayed by a partner and is seemingly very loyal. She has simple tastes and it's refreshing. My stress is less on how to please her whims but instead more how to avoid being a monster to her. I do recognize her risk of falling to dependence and victim-hood, something I struggle with too. I hope I can do my part, and her do hers, to make our relationship work for us. And, at least, I have a chance again to enjoy the little things and big things. Like my aforementioned second son; thanks to her willingness and personal risk of health and wellness in the process.
So this message for her below is a good step for me I think. That I am not all consumed by dad's death even though I feel like I still betray the loss by not being so consumed. It's like I have to hold on or I won't be me or some other such childishness. And I am ever the foolish child struggling to hide that fact in this world so that 'they' can think I am an adult. I digress, at least I wrote something for someone else with the intent of just her benefit.
You are mine. My euphoric freedom. My unseeming muse.
You are mine. My relentless companion. My nurturing gaia.
You are mine. I am yours.
I wrote this for my wife for valentines day tomorrow. I read past posts and realized I hadn't talked about her here. I had embraced singlehood and then irony struck in 2015 and I met again my second wife to be. It's been four years now, half the time of my first wife. I wonder if I will make it to that milestone this time. I wonder, if I do, how far I will go past. I wonder how long she will put up with me and I with her.
She is different, of course, then my first wife. She also knows the sting of being betrayed by a partner and is seemingly very loyal. She has simple tastes and it's refreshing. My stress is less on how to please her whims but instead more how to avoid being a monster to her. I do recognize her risk of falling to dependence and victim-hood, something I struggle with too. I hope I can do my part, and her do hers, to make our relationship work for us. And, at least, I have a chance again to enjoy the little things and big things. Like my aforementioned second son; thanks to her willingness and personal risk of health and wellness in the process.
So this message for her below is a good step for me I think. That I am not all consumed by dad's death even though I feel like I still betray the loss by not being so consumed. It's like I have to hold on or I won't be me or some other such childishness. And I am ever the foolish child struggling to hide that fact in this world so that 'they' can think I am an adult. I digress, at least I wrote something for someone else with the intent of just her benefit.
You are mine. My euphoric freedom. My unseeming muse.
You are mine. My relentless companion. My nurturing gaia.
You are mine. I am yours.
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