Where I Stand

This one is for my family. I realize that if you have kept up with Wisp's musings at all, you are probably wondering "where the hell was his family during all of that?" Well, let me put it right here, in bold undeniable words: They were not absent. They were there for me, as much as they could be, as much as I let them be, and somewhere in between.

My brother spent much of his time among his friends, but once in a while would come to Salt Lake City, where my mother and I lived at the time, and rescue me in a way only he could. Once, a Jazz-Nuggets game. (The one where Mutumbo was shoved from behind mid-dunk and slammed his head into the rim.) Another time, four-wheeling with him and his buddies. Because of him, I grew very comfortable in places such as cold auto-shops, around the scents of gasoline, burnt oil, and fresh rubber. Yet, our relationship remained that of a big brother-little brother. He would visit mainly out of necessity, family gatherings, and other such obligations. But a true relationship stirred like the air before a storm.

My eldest sister, whom I absolutely adore and cherish, was a huge support. She had so much of her own life to look after, though. Her daughter was still an infant, and that took a great deal of her time. Who could fault her for trying to be a good and devoted mother? She had a family. But even so, she did her best to make time for me, as she always has. We have so many great memories that I still replay in my head, always trying to keep the colors vivid. She made little things so special.

My youngest sister, still 5 years older than me, has proven a special sort of test for my family. She is fiercely intelligent, sensationally quick minded, powerful...well...she was. She had a weakness for "the Man in her life", whoever it was at the time. She tossed her potential out the window to pursue a delusion. Sound harsh? Let me tell you, it's been a long time coming. This was a sibling who was very...what's a good word? Ah. Apathetic. She would strive and struggle with no goal to meet, and would hand herself over, lock and key, to the next guy that would give her any attention at all. The whole time surviving in a decidedly parasitic fashion off of her family. A family that seems to have finally had enough of it.

There was a sister in between these two, but alas, there is no record. Because I choose for there not to be. I love her, and she was supportive while she was there, but she has become like an appendage which has been amputated. Sure, I could keep that arm, but why? A pointless nostalgic, I am not. Thus, I choose to let it go. Maybe that limb can be useful is some way, to someone. But I don't want to know about it.

My mother. Oh, my mother. The reader. The learner. The student of anyone claiming to have the smallest shard of truth. I pitied her, in those years. I kept all the darkness from her. What good would it have done to tell her? I was already undergoing counseling, I was already struggling in school. She had my siblings to deal with, some of which operated with rather Machiavellian agendas, a series of jobs, none of which she was actually qualified for but somehow learned them anyway, various incarnations of debt, a car to maintain, my school fees, etc. I felt I was a horrible burden at the time. Somehow, she still found time to be a friend to me. Not a mother so much, anymore. She was far to tired and stressed for that. I wanted to go for a walk at 3am in the city alone on a schoolnight? Go ahead. That's what it was like. I lost myself to music, videogames, any escape I could find. God bless her, though. We had escapes in common. We would escape together. Music, Sunday drives to nowhere in particular, sharing a cigarette on the front porch, we somehow survived. She saw the effects of the darkness, and it scared her. But she didn't hassle me too much about it. She seems happy now. I can only pray she finds what she's looking for.

Which leaves my father. He left when I was 9 or 10, somewhere around there. I hated him for it. I didn't understand why he left, and he didn't bother to explain. Back then, I always thought my father perceived me as an embarrassment, a failure, a thing you hide in the basement when company comes over. My ADD at the time seemed to bother him. I had a...bladder control issue that I know drove him nuts, but he never really addressed it. I wanted so much to live up to his expectations. Problem is, I never knew what those expectations were.
I know why now. My father left me behind out of absolute necessity. He had to trust that I would be alright. I like to think that perhaps he thought of me as he drove away, and knew that I had it in me. Because I did. I've turned out to be resilient as a weed. Not the gorgeous flowers you see around you in the springtime, true, but this plant had to make it without the water, fertilizer, sunlight and care that the flowers got. You had to know, Dad, that I'd be ok. That I'd learn why, eventually.

I was a nurtured wolf, released into the wild. It sucked. But because of it, I am more than a common dog. I do not live a sheltered life. I fight hard and strong for what is mine.

Thank you for leaving, Dad. I needed it more than you know. Thank you then, for being my enemy. Thank you now, for being my friend. It is an honor to be your son. Thank you for making me strong. For making me real. Thank you for letting me go.

I love you all.