a long conversation with tommy tonight about death and memories and life led me into the living room to look at the collage of pictures that i made for my dad's wake. i felt like i hadn't looked at it, really looked at it, in so long, though i see it all the time. i sat down in front of it and i started looking at the pictures and suddenly i was there in them, like that time in alcatraz when he stood inside the cell with his hands up and a goofy grin on his face...then one of him standing in the kitchen, almost the same pose, but wearing his blue nylon blazer and work clothes. suddenly i could feel exactly what that coat felt like underneath my fingers, softer than the heavy red winter coat but still scratchy. suddenly i could picture him sitting to my left at the dinner table, dumping the meatloaf into a giant bowl of salad and carefully making a moat of of a baked potato. suddenly i could see him smiling again, but i couldn't remember the sound of his laughter, which almost made me cry, but i didn't, what made me cry was the picture of him and my mother, taken when they were just married, standing outside of some random tourist spot, arms around each other, grinning, looking so happy, and it just hit me that they had no way of knowing back then that this would be the way things would turn out. looking at them, so blissfully unaware of what the years would bring, i couldn't help but cry...part of me wanted to jump in there, wanted to warn them, but part of me didn't want to, because it would only taint their time together. then i just had the powerful fear that it will happen to me, that i'll fall in love and be so happy and i'll never expect what's waiting around the corner till it hits me. that scared me so much but i know i can't let that stop me from enjoying life. you just have to cope with the chance that it will all be taken away in an instant, and you will be left, again.

i can't remember the last time i cried on the phone with someone...tommy was crying at times too. i'm just usually not comfortable doing it in front of other people, not because i don't want to look stupid or feel weak but just because i feel like they can't understand, and i want them to understand! i don't want them just to see me and think oh yeah, her dad died four years ago, that's why she cries sometimes...i want them to know who it was that i lost, and how i lost him, and all the emotional baggage that came along with my dad and our family and just everything. and that's really not possible, outside of a very few people, and i don't usually feel the need to cry around them, but if i did i know that i would. sara, rae, heather....you guys have the best idea of all the shit that happened. where or what i would be without you, i have no idea and i don't really want to know. i originally almost started to cry telling tommy about my dad's wake, about the masonic ritual of putting evergreens in the coffin and how that meant more to me than the church rites or the burial service, and also how you guys being there helped so much....even about how heather cried more than me and she'd never even met him. i'm not crying anymore, but i'm at that stage where i know i'll start again if i start thinking about him again, and i don't want to do that, it's late, i need sleep.

i had the idea today of writing a letter and then setting it adrift on the farmington, in one of those little lantern boats the chinese make for those who have died...i would write "i love you, dad" as many times as i could fit it onto that piece of paper. maybe he'll see. maybe he already knows.