It's hard to imagine sometimes how life would be different. There is a piece of artwork that my WMS Intro class created back in '06 that was a mural of broken shards of pottery that we'd destroyed against a brick wall as we attempted to reclaim ourselves and our power back. Inside of the shards the phrase "how would your life be different" was woven through out it and I do wonder, "How would my life be differnt?" What if my dad wasn't dead or what if it was just him and not K? Would the kids still be around? I can still barely talk about it with most people, not that it's the best conversation piece. It always makes people uncomfortable and they don't know what to say. Well fuck I don't know what to say either... Suicide leaves no "said" words behind, not at least how I'm thinking about it anyway.
My mother brought me some daffodils today and it just made me think of him. I had a reading done by someone two years ago that told me my father was there with a batch of yellow flowers (I believe she was leaning more to roses but there wasn't, at least to my knowledge, a connecting thread to a specific one) and it was some sort of act of contrition or an apology. This whole situation is just nauseating sometimes. I appreciated how O was trying to be there for me but I forget how much I just give to her without even thinking or realizing it but when I comes to something I need, it just seems difficult. I know we have different communication styles, that's been the plague of this relationship... So many misunderstandings and tears shed needlessly.
