Wednesday Nov 25, 2009

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Thanksgiving with my aunt and uncles family tomorrow. They love me and i them but it's so hard to watch them be a family. especially when my uncle looks so like my father.

On the upside i got to climb today and have blisters and bruises all over my hands smile
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chrysis:
Alright. You have told me a little about your situation, but I don't know what bothers you and what doesn't. Upon actually typing this up, I've decided that I don't know enough to know if this will bother you or --

Well. Only that the short thing that you wrote reminded me strongly of this:

SPOILERS! (Click to view)
It was Russ who held me the day Dad's coffin was lowered into the blazing green earth of the cemetery grounds. I hadn't been at the wake or the funeral, but Mom brought all of us up to Massachusetts for the burial. There were people crying all around, looking at the coffin, the hole, the grass, their shoes, the sky. Russ looked at the grass. My hands gripped the back of his neck and patted his puffy, prickly cheeks. I looked at his eyes, red and wet. They looked as if they hurt. I looked at his big ear and at the hairs that curled from the waxy hole.

"Is my daddy in there?" I whispered to him in the silence. He ignored me, so I leaned in closer, my lips touching the hairs, and asked him again. Then I saw his eyes spilling and shut my mouth so hard I bit my tongue. I could taste blood, metallic like the water from the fountain at school, licking its way to my teeth. I started to cry and put my hands to his cheeks once more, just like the cheeks I had touched in the sunshine by the pool, in the dimly lit hallways of our house, in my bed before I fell asleep.

"You look just like my daddy," I whispered. "You look just like my daddy." My uncle turned his head and began to sob as some gray-haired lady took me from his arms, my hands scraping his stubble as I was carried away.
discoquette:
I really apreaciate your sweet comment in my set smile

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