I left this blog a lil bit since I got a full-time job. I’ve been trying to reset my freelancer clock (mixing leisure and work, never working peak-performance, never relaxing totally) to a employee clock (schizophrenic division between leisure and work, based on a historical calendar).
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Then, then, I receive the news that my father died, in Brazil.
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First of all, he wasn’t really close, so it’s just sad, not desperate. If you ask me why we were not close, I can’t tell you. No drugs, beating, rape or murder… No religious shit… No excuses. Just a genetic predisposition to disappear from your duties and start anew, forgeting the past.
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I was recalling my father-side history with my sister, and we came to the conclusion that all males from this family had an affair with their maids and run away. One, did it twice (like: get married, hire a maid, run with the maid, marry the maid, have ANOTHER maid, and run with her too). we have a word for it and is co-ro-ne-lis-mo.
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I loved my father… The problem is that he never gave me some room or time to excercise it.
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When I tried to remember our good times together as my brothers did, I found a lot of repressed memories. I don’t want to dig this stuff and I don’t feel the need to. In fact, my only good memories with my father were when I was older and we discussed why he was mean with me… Like, man to man stories. My relatives always said my father was unfair with me, but I could never compare till now…
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I cried all I could, and I’m still soft… any mellow thing that happens, make me all blue. being happy and alive makes me blue because I have it, and he doesn’t, anymore.
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In Brazil, my older brother and my mom buried him, while here in USA, me and my sister threw a flower in the river and lit two candles for him. Sad stuff.
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That’s life, till the absence of it.