Red and Cheesecake
We finally set up a ROTH IRA for jj. I have had one for years, because I can easily get myself into the bank and do whatever I want. Well, within reason. I cannot run in with a gun and ask for money. I can just run in and ask for money, minus the gun, but they will probably just laugh at me when they see what I am asking for is like $14.38.
I am so bugged today. It is like my heart is being grated on a cheese grater, like I know that I am going to have to see my dad soon. That kind of feeling. The kind of feeling I wish that I did not have and the feelings that I am all to familiar with.
I wonder why it is that the people that reject us are the ones we want to love us the most.
The summer after my freshman year of college I came home to work. My mom and dad were still quasi together, but my dad was going through surgeries. We knew that he was having things done, but did not really know what. And we would not take care of him, so he had his trans-gender friends come and take care of him.
One time he picked me up from somewhere and was bringing me home. We were fighting, I cannot remember why. But his friend “Jeff” was in the car with us. I did not care what Jeff thought, I wanted to know some things.
I asked him what my favorite food was, at the time it was cheesecake. He did not know.
I asked him what my favorite color was, red. He did not know.
And then I thought that I would try something that he would probably know.
I asked him what my birthday was. No answer.
I asked him how old I was. No answer.
He, my father, did not even know I existed. It crushed me. I had lived and breathed in that home all of my life and he could not even bother to pay attention to me.
Somehow I have gotten over that rejection. But it seems that I am working on a new one here, and it hurts in all the same, familiar ways.