November 16, 2005

new pictures not pictures

I know you're used to my sarcastic side. It's endearing isn't it? It's also been protecting me this last year. I mean I'm not saying I'm letting it go because it gives me a GREAT deal of pleasure to share it with you and it's what helps me make great fun of Those in Power and we all need that every third Friday.

What I'm meaning to say is that something's opening again. blogging doesn't like that, not grown up professional blogging, RSS doesn't understand because aggregators are flat like TV and you don't have to travel to them, like you do when you go to a friend's house or blog. Aggregators are channels and you tune in to flat feeds so my wounded feed doesn't FEEL any different than my SARCASTIC feed or my PR feed because everthing sits in the flat aggregator window and what do I care really?

Please understand: I don't care.

What I care about is that I saw new pictures of my father this weekend.

Have you seen them? What I mean is that when you are a child and your parent disappears forever, you're left with a finite set of image-memories -- like a deck of playing cards you take out now and then and shuffle through -- and then you get older and these are your 'bread and butter' of memories. They're the stock pictures you conjure when you think about the missing person. They are known because you have seen them over and over behind your eyes, year after year.

In all of my father memories, the face looking back at me is frozen in time, still, it is the dad I have seen in photographs and in home movies. My memories are the pictures of him that I've seen on the walls at relatives' houses, in the old box of black-and-white photos in the closet. They are a birthday party memory snapshot here; a vacation trip there; they are the paisley pajamas of my heart.

In loss, eventually, your memories grow still. Movement slows, then finally stop. You are left with disjointed snapshots that tell the only parts of your story you can absorb.

This weekend I saw my father in motion. It felt something like this:

Hi Dad! HI! and he was smiling back and Oh My dad that was your smile and YES I saw the corners of your eyes turn down and I see the SIDE of your face, this is not a picture, I see YOU, and you are MOVING inside you are in motion you are three dimensional you are NOT an RSS feed memory you are with me HI DAD! HI! do you see me? YES. You're dressed in a white cotton shirt, not pajamas and not clothes from the home movies, and it's really you, and where are you going daddy? What are you doing and why are you here like this. Only one time you came to me new and in motion, and I was 16 and you sang me a song in the kitchen, and now I'm 43 and you're back, moving your head and you're so real I could pinch your cheeks, and if I could just reach your shoulder..... and I wonder why you are back, and have I said I'm SO glad to see you? I can't believe I SEE YOU!!! You look so good--I wish I could get to you, what are you about 1o yards away? The way you tilt your head to the right.... of course, yes i'm your baby. yes i'm your baby. OH hellohelloiloveyoudaddy.

And it is going on and on like that. I have no explanation and I have no pretense about it. It just is. He's here and I'm not sure why, but you should all know that something is moving.

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