Celebrating the Holidays is bittersweet for me - I get to watch my kids run around like fiends, open presents and eat a lot of fatty, salty delicious foods. It’s a great time! My kids have such a joy de vivre for the holiday that I can’t help but get sucked out of my typical downward spiral of darkness.
However, I miss Murph. The vacuous gap he left doesn’t necessarily suck me down, but I just realize how big of a part he played in my life. Knowing how much he would have contributed to the life of my kids makes me melancholy and sad that he isn’t here to torture them - and I know he would have.
He would have tortured them by tickling, playing, drawing, painting and running around with them like a madman. I know that if he is looking down on me, he would be encouraging me to do the same, and so, I try to. To tickle, to tease, to torture. And I do, but it is Daddy, not Uncle Jon, and it is different. They have a rich life, but it would have been so much richer.
At the Holidays I always realize what I have. I have a home, a lovely wife and beautiful children. I have a great job, a purpose and a life. I value these things because I know what I don’t have. I don’t have my bruva, MonJonMayoJayoPelayoDelayo, the Baby Eraser, Zach, EraserMan, aka Murph, and I really miss him!
Spike
Thursday, December 25, 2008
Saturday, December 6, 2008
Moving On!
I worked for a while at a place and I made connections, people I loved and cherished. Before that, I worked at another place, and before that, I worked at another place. Before all of that, I went to school with people I loved and cherished. Every time I was at a place, I thought “these people will always be my friends.”
When I moved, those people were my friends, for awhile. Then, things seemed different. Then they seemed strained, I couldn’t connect with them anymore. Then, we didn’t talk anymore. I missed them and I would call, but things were different. I either stopped calling, or they stopped taking my calls.
I have a few friends that have survived the moves. They are the people that I love and hold dear to me. They call, they talk, they come see me. My brother is one of them, but there are few others. A few of the others are friends of my brother who passed away. A few are friends from my salad days as a golf pro. Few are current or recent.
Losing friends like this makes me wonder – were they ever really friends? Further, I wondered, what is a friend? I think I have figured out what a friend is and it explains why I lose them.
A friend is someone who accepts you warts and all. A friend understands that you are a psychopath and teases you about it. A friend drinks beers with you, listens to your rants and loves you tomorrow. A friend is there for you.
That being said, it is important to examine the costs of being a friend. You have to listen to your asshole buddy rant and tell him he is right. You have to listen to your asshole buddy rant about his girlfriend being a bitch, even when she isn’t. You have to listen to your asshole buddy rant about his insane parents, even when they aren’t.
In short, you have to be a friend. Some of my acquaintances aren’t willing or able to do the friend thang. Does that make me think less of them? Yes. Do I understand it? Yes. Do I hold it against them? Yes.
Eventually, one has to recognize that one is alone at sea in this world of ours and that it is up to you to make things work. My friends are not my friends. No one is going to pay my mortgage, no one is going to tell my boss she is a bitch, even if she is. No one is going to say, “hey, that ain’t right.” Why? Because they all have a mortgage, they all have their own issues to protect and I am not one of those issues, so, you are on your own.
Deal with it!
Spike
When I moved, those people were my friends, for awhile. Then, things seemed different. Then they seemed strained, I couldn’t connect with them anymore. Then, we didn’t talk anymore. I missed them and I would call, but things were different. I either stopped calling, or they stopped taking my calls.
I have a few friends that have survived the moves. They are the people that I love and hold dear to me. They call, they talk, they come see me. My brother is one of them, but there are few others. A few of the others are friends of my brother who passed away. A few are friends from my salad days as a golf pro. Few are current or recent.
Losing friends like this makes me wonder – were they ever really friends? Further, I wondered, what is a friend? I think I have figured out what a friend is and it explains why I lose them.
A friend is someone who accepts you warts and all. A friend understands that you are a psychopath and teases you about it. A friend drinks beers with you, listens to your rants and loves you tomorrow. A friend is there for you.
That being said, it is important to examine the costs of being a friend. You have to listen to your asshole buddy rant and tell him he is right. You have to listen to your asshole buddy rant about his girlfriend being a bitch, even when she isn’t. You have to listen to your asshole buddy rant about his insane parents, even when they aren’t.
In short, you have to be a friend. Some of my acquaintances aren’t willing or able to do the friend thang. Does that make me think less of them? Yes. Do I understand it? Yes. Do I hold it against them? Yes.
Eventually, one has to recognize that one is alone at sea in this world of ours and that it is up to you to make things work. My friends are not my friends. No one is going to pay my mortgage, no one is going to tell my boss she is a bitch, even if she is. No one is going to say, “hey, that ain’t right.” Why? Because they all have a mortgage, they all have their own issues to protect and I am not one of those issues, so, you are on your own.
Deal with it!
Spike
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