it's almost frustrating, wondering what to do that would capture just how much you mean it when you say, thank you very much.
-----
for ephy
-----
angel
flightless, you glow in my head
a smiling certainty
a permanent embrace
how...?
--warmth
why...?
--a smile
and i needed nothing more
and i cradled you in my head
where, flightless, you glow brightly
--- written 9 April 2007
Two nights ago, I was typing a blog entry when I noticed that my dad was looking at my monitor from the next PC. Because I've always been somewhat resistant to comments made on anything that I haven't finished yet, I quickly minimized the window.
My dad smiled. "You've become secretive," he commented.
"No," I said. "I've never been comfortable having my stuff read before I finish or publish them."
"I can give you inputs." It was half a tease.
I didn't answer.
My dad sighed and half-smiled. "You've grown," he said.
Grown.
I remembered his last birthday greeting to me then, his greeting on the first birthday that I spent away from home:
M HAPPY UV GROWN AND N PAIN THAT UR FINGERS SLIPPD FAR FRM MY HAND.
Yup. Literally, I've gone a long way from home--two hours away, by plane--and, yes, I know that after two semesters in UPD, I've grown. I've met new people, learned new things, encountered new problems. I've lived up to challenges, faced responsibilities. I've managed to pay the emotional price of being entrusted with more independence. I've learned that it's hard, and, more importantly, I've learned that I can pull through it. I know I've made my family proud.
But there are these moments when you suddenly realize that, in order to embrace new things, you've had to let go of some of the old. It's something beautiful and heartbreaking...and unavoidable. The pain is not anyone's fault, but it's there, a difficult and wonderful pain that you can neither blame nor appreciate for being there. It's like a kick and kiss thing. Exciting and hurtful. Bittersweet.
Fortunately, people have this amazing capacity to accept that things change. They can understand that things grow and things pass. So they find ways to cope. They step up to the changes. They accept, and bargain for a place in memory. They grow and change, because many of the things in life grow and change. They love, so that they can keep and be kept, even if old habits and routines fall behind.
That night, I didn't finish the entry I was writing. The mood simply wasn't there anymore. Whatever I had to vent suddenly seemed insignificant. So I shut the windows without saving anything, and, before tucking myself into bed, I made sure to tell my dad I love him.
