Three Years - In Your Name (aka 12º)
I did not forget. I do not wish you for you to think that I did.
On the contrary, I thought of you for the entire month. Thought of you. Wondered about you. Dreamed about you. Obsessed myself with you just as I do two times a year at least and likely more so. Every year I grow a little older and every year I begin to think I suffer lapses of sanity more often. I imagine, however, that psychologically speaking all people who have gone through the same thing feel the same way.
Or perhaps I really am one of my own. I haven't the faintest idea and I doubt I'll ever truly know.
I talked about you with Mama on Saturday. Yes, I'm aware I was two days late. I guess as I progress, I've grown less concerned about being punctual, much the way you always were. I'm guessing that even now you're probably late for everything. I wonder how many times you were tardy that you actually didn't care, or how many times you simply played a charming façade.
Something else we have in common, right? A bad habit of using a persona for our protection from the inevitable. I have friends to pull me out of mine. Charismatic you were, yes, but I think you lived in this little world of your own. You certainly seemed so very different from everything else I ever saw or was around. You were so very untouchable, so very incomparable, so very all your own, so very one of a kind.
(Am I envious? No. I would not quite say that.)
I told Mother when we spoke that I felt like there was just a part of me gone. This is the first year I have not cried about you. Does it mean I'm no longer able to? Does it mean I simply won't let myself? Either way, there were no tears, there was no chatter of you, there was no public nostalgia. I kept everything inside and I have continued to do exactly that until this moment.
So a part of me is gone. This part of me is empty, hollow, cannot be filled, and I would give no one the privilege of doing such a thing. That part of me was, is, and always will be reserved for you alone. I sometimes feel as though I am a great knight going out onto the battlefield, banner unfurled, and spear raised toward the sky, proclaiming my undying devotion for my lady fair. Except you are not a lady and I am certainly no knight. In fact, I would imagine it was much the other way around.
You were always my knight. You were always the one coming to my rescue. You were the man I dreamed about as I aged. You were the man who was everything to me. This year I officially decided that I was in love with you. I grew up thinking I only loved you, the way family loves one another. I went through the last few years with suspicion of myself and concern over how others would view me if I were to truly admit it. And then this year I decided "to hell with it".
The world can handle my inappropriate teasing, but when I sincerely say I believed I fell in love with someone that by social standards is so terribly improper, impure, and tainted, it seemed more likely that people would be all too quick to either look at me with disgust or to hastily toss my heart into the fire of the underworld.
And now it's out. I'll stop tormenting myself and punishing myself about it. That is how I feel in my heart. I do not condemn myself and no one can make me feel as if I am unless I give them the power to.
Your voice seems a bit of a long ago memory to me. I wonder if I did not have pictures of you, if I would forget how you look as well. I would like to think I wouldn't, but I also believed I would not forget what you sound like, but I have. Or maybe I've locked it all up into this box and hidden it away. Locked it up, stashed it in the shadows, and hid it from the world because those were things about you I didn't want to share with anyone else.
I'm very selfish, aren't I? I want to take everything about you, hold it to myself, practically meld with it, and never let anyone even lay their eyes on it. As if I own you. Overprotective, I guess is what it is. Again, I'm going right back to this obsessed thing.
Let's talk about something better. A lot has happened, right? From ridiculous boys to very sweet girls that have me wrapped around forefingers, to stressful work time, to illogical breakdowns, and including the oh-so-recent event that will remind me of you for the remainder of my days. You know the one. Lots of crazy lesbians dressing as guys who are interested in gay relationships. Oh, and some other guys interested in the same thing. Basically, a lot of celebrating the gay men.
So what's that about you and Vitor? I kid, I kid. ♥
One more year passes, everything changes and yet so many things stay the same. What is it that you see when you look at me? What is it that you think? Are you proud? Are you disappointed? Do you hurt when I hurt? Are you happy when I'm happy? Do we truly share our hearts as one? These are things I can only theorise. I will likely never get the answers for them.
And that's all right.
It's no longer how it all happened that matters. It did happen, even if sometimes it didn't. You were once here. You did many times hold my hand as we walked into stores over the weekend. This all happened. The good and the bad. You were no figment of my imagination. You were no dreamed prince on a white steed.
All I can think is that I am everlastingly grateful.
Rest in peace, Papa.
This entry was originally posted at Dreamwidth. It is brought to you by Mako's fine hands. :D