Confrontational stuff

I hate it when I hear somebody says something I have strong negative feelings about. I can't help myself, I have to respond. Nowadays, it seems to be more common to just nod along, avoid the confrontation and speak badly behind the persons back, but that's not me.

I respond. And I realise I am grabbing the shit and fling it at the fan while I'm doing it. And I know there will be no time to duck either. And I know people will be pointing in my direction when responsebility is to be taken. But I've learned to respect my feelings and part of that is not to ignore them.

I have no clue how that makes me look in the eyes of the person I'm confronting with my feelings or in the eyes of the bystanders. And to be honest, I'm affraid to find out. But still ... these are my feelings damnit, and they are important to me!

Now the big misconception about confrontations is that it's all or nothing: I like you vs. I hate you, you agree with me vs. I agree with you, you're a good person vs. you're a bad person. Confrontations are about differences, and differences are good. Yes, confrontations are uncomfortable, but we'll live .... yes, really, confrontations are survivable!

So there! And if you disagree .... well .... let me know! I'll live!

A yearly goodbye

Yesterday, a member of the Dutch royal family was buried, and I was watching the church service on TV. I was humming along with the church choir, remembering the songs from the time when my dad took me and my brother to church with him. My thoughts went out to the grieving family, no longer seeing them as royals that had to keep a stiff upper lip for the public, but regarding them as people like you and me, that had just lost a dad, a granddad, etc. And I was overcome with sadness ...

On this day, 15 years ago, my father passed away after 7 days in the hospital. Only after his death did they discover that cancer had rapidly spread all over his body and was consuming all his vital organs. We never saw it coming.

I never saw it coming. On Sunday, December 10th 1989, we went to see him in the hospital, but I didn't really get to talk to him. He was hurting so badly that he couldn't deal with the stress of his kids around. He sent me and my brother away with some money to play pool in a recreation room. I said hi and bye, but not much more then that. It turned out to be the last time I saw him. Monday, I was telling a friend at school about my dad's condition when a teacher walked by and commented that it sounded very seriously, to which I replied I was sure they'd fix him up as soon as they'd find what was wrong with him. The next night, he died ...

My dad was my hero, and I idealized him. To this day, I don't know why really, because he was hardly around, and never gave me much attention. Maybe I needed a male role model so badly that I settled with the little attention I got and considered that to be normal. I was always competing for his attention with my brother, sister and mother, and I usually lost out. Only by going fishing with him (which I hated) did I get to spend some time with him, but of course I had to be quiet to not scare the fish.

This last year, I've started to tear my dad off his pedestal. He wasn't there for me in so many ways. He was hardly at home, never took time for me, never made me feel important in any way, never really got to know me. For a man that wanted children so badly, he sure had a funny way of showing it. I needed him to grab my hand and hold on to it in time of trouble, teach me about the world, protect me and give me guidance. And when I was 14, he bailed out on us, on me, by dying. This last year, I've gotten real angry with him and wanted to scream and shout at him, to make him know I'm here and I needed him. And I miss him ... so badly ...

I've never had the chance to say goodbye to his face, and say al the things that need to be said. But every year, on December 12th, I do try to say goodbye, bit by bit. Hopefully, it'll be enough for me one day. So here goes ...

Dad, where were you when I needed you? I needed you so fucking badly, especially this year. I am finally letting you go Dad, but it's so hard to grow up and become a man all by myself. You're missing the best part of my life. I would have made you proud, you know, if you'd have been here and paid attention.

I love you dad, and still miss you ... But I don't need you as badly anymore. I'm doing well without you, perhaps for the first time in my life. I'm sad but that's okay, and everybody may see my tears, because they don't me weaker anymore, but stronger ... Goodbye dad.

To Blog, Or Not To Blog

I've decided, for no appearent reason, to start a blog today, at this very hour. Oh, BTW, I'm in The Netherlands and it's almost 4 a.m. as I'm typing this.

I've decided to just do it, click and type, without any sound reasoning behind my actions. That's new behaviour for me, but feels good. And feeling good is what it's all about.

So welcome, dear visitor, and feast yourself on this marvel of pointles clicking and writing, and come back later, when I will surely have more to say.