The first day of summer! And.. Father's Day

I wish every day was the first day of summer, where sunlight stays until 8.30p. If I were in, say, Seattle it would still be pretty bright out. That would be even better. But, I'm not, so it isn't. Oh well. Life moves on anyway, right?

So it's Father's Day today. I don't really care because, well, he's dead. Even when he was alive, I didn't really celebrate it. I wasn't close to him and, frankly, I didn't like him too much anyway; he was an asshole.

I didn't really get how much I hated him until after he passed away.

Sure, I felt bad. I even cried. I was more sad that we didn't get to know each other as well as I would have wanted. Yeah, he tried in the end but I just wasn't havin' it. Too little too late.

Anyway, it wasn't something that has affected me in any way.

So, today, I got some boxes back that were at an ex-friend's place. We were roomies once and, because of his extensive drug use and poor taste in friends, I had to move out. In one of the boxes was some letters from my mom, who, too, had passed on awhile ago.

My mother's passing devastated me. Reading some of the letters that I wrote as well as hers to me left me in tears. The memories came back, the feelings of guilt I harbored washed over me and the remorse I had had once again weakened me. My mother's passing still affects me to this day, 15 years later.

See, I was already a sensitive individual. My mother's passing made me hypersensitive, to the point where I think I need psychological help. I recently went to see the movie UP and I totally cried during the montage of the old man and his wife through the years. And, just the other day, I went to the Museum of Tolerance where I had to try, unsuccessfully, to hold back tears walking through the place.

There is a place to be sensitive. A man shouldn't be this sensitive.

Anyway, what I'm trying to get at is, my mother meant so very much to me, even if I never showed it; even when I shunned her or when I thought she was an embarrassment. I am embarrassed now by my treatment of her and I will always hold those feelings of shame. I loved my mother. No. I love my mother. And I always will. My mother's passing made me realize just how important she was to me. My father? Eh.. who cares? Not I. He was a prick.

So, for you fathers out there, be kind to your children. Understand them, be kind to them, get to know them. Don't let their mother take on your job, too, like mine lest they celebrate their mom's on this day, like I did.