But I’m not a kid anymore. I write about hope, and damn put my belief on it - that no matter how wrong things seem, it will always turn out alright in the end. I felt good about that idea, who wouldn’t? Acceptance, however, is most easily said than done. My father’s death has become the death of one of my dream’s purpose – to impress him, to prove that I can do things, to prove that I’m not immature. But then, all becomes irrelevant in the face of death. That day, I also died. It is not what I want, who would want that anyway? but perhaps...it is what I need.
What did I need? What did a self-aggrandizing irresponsible prick want? Surely, I was heavily confused back then. It may have changed in the last two years. To a certain extent, I hoped that I gained a sensibility common to those who have experienced grief, or loss – humility, among others, and a deeper appreciation of life. A couple of years may not have totally changed me, nor was my experience the ultimate tragedy that may shatter one and mend the same anew to a better one (there are countless others who went through worse), I would like to believe that in those years, I did not just lose a life…that I also reclaimed one myself.
What’s the rush in August? I always ask. But, before I tell the story of August, one may wonder about that first week of December. It may not be that hyped month of hearts, but nevertheless a very interesting one; and that cold merry night after the shared boozed laughter…and two lonely people decided to spend a long special moment together. Ah, how can I make it sound romantic? The story is rarely found on the sheets and the pillows. The real story started when we received the biggest surprise of our lives.
I may have also surprised everyone. And believe me, I know the repercussions. But, for what it is worth, and after the painful gossip of politics, regretful comments, burning bridges, and what have you-- of ‘what ifs’ and ‘whys’ ,and, even if I may hurt that other one who might be waiting for me on the other side of the world, or even that other one in our neighborhood, how can I deny the existence of a very special gift? How can't I yearn to feel his first kicks in his mom's tummy? To see his sleepy eyes on his first day? I couldn't. For me, telling the world, and having him in our home, and being a father, a good father, is the right thing to do. Even when my life is really full of wrongs, I wouldn’t dare add this on top of it. To tell the world that I have a son, is one of the better things I did in a long time. Indeed, it is, really, the right thing to do.
What’s my rush in August? Two years ago, I dreaded this rainy month for taking away one valuable life from us...But from that, it reminded me that everything has its own time and reason -- the rains may take life away, but it may also nourish and give another one. This August, the night must finally give way to the day, and just like the seasons, there is a time to be a kid, and a time to have one. Life, can't be meaningless after all...
- I will always be here Vash Gray !