I Wanna…Blog Some

I was talking to one of my favorite people today.  It’s almost funny that she’s one of my favorite people because we hardly ever see each other and don’t even talk on the phone much.  But she’s still one of my favs.  Because she loves me.  I’ve always felt her love.  She’s my Aunt Mary.  She’s married to one of my mom’s brothers, so we aren’t even blood related.  But even if it’s been over a year since we’ve talked, she ends every phone call with "I love you."  And since I don’t have a mom anymore to say that to me I melt inside every time I hear her say that. 

But this isn’t really about the love of my aunt.  Or about missing my mom.  It’s about how I feel when other people’s perceptions of me are revealed. 

During our conversation about an upcoming family wedding my Aunt Mary said something about my dad.  He might or might not be mentioned in the wedding program as a "no longer with us" family member.  My mom will for sure be mentioned, but my Aunt said that no one really knew my dad, so it wasn’t really decided if he’d be listed.  Funny that I never really knew that my mom’s family didn’t really know my dad.  And that started a whole conversation about my dad.  And that lead to a comment about my childhood.  About my childhood being "difficult." 

When I first heard that word, difficult, I felt like I was hearing about someone else’s life.  But quickly I remembered, oh, no, it was my life we were talking about.  It’s good that I forget, right?  Or is it just weird that I never thought it was really that difficult.  It just was what it was.  Sure there were times I hated my life, but in the typical "my life sucks" kinda way.  It’s only when I put together some of the bits and pieces that I think, I guess it would seem difficult to others.  Ex-con dad.  Times of extreme poverty (well, not by some standards, really).  Several moves (one to escape ex-con issues).  Lost jobs.  Separations.  Alcoholism.  Divorce.  Re-marriages.  More divorces.  A missing dad.  Not living near any kind of support system that might have helped my mom from get a rest from two unruly kids every once in awhile.  Living in a very low-income neighborhood with all of the lessons that can come with that. 

But hey, look at me now.  Look around me.  Not at the stuff, but at the people.  I have so many people around me that make me feel loved and there is nothing difficult about that.