Creator

I don't know why I go cold. I don't understand why I rebel. I don't know why.

I still love you so. But I do not show it now. Not to my neighbor. Not to my wife. Not to my children.

I am keeping myself away from you all because I am ashamed. I know why a man clams up and folds in upon himself. I know why he does this. For shame he does this. Because with each passing day the potentiality of him diminishes. And he is aware of it when he wakes in the middle of the night. And in the morning when he feels he has had no rest.

I am keeping myself away from you all because I am proud. And I know I have no reason to be. That I am not what I should have been or what I am meant to be.

I am keeping my thoughts to myself now because I don't have the energy to explain myself. Because I know that words will only fail me.

I am writing in the dark because I cannot tell you these things. That I am fragile. That I need you all. I am proud and I hate myself for it.

I have not been to Mass in over a month. I am sad that this is so, because I know it is my only refuge. I know it is a man's only hope. But I am proud and I know I should not be. And I know you will have me, imperfect as I am. And I know that you love me. But I starve myself of you, because I know I could never deserve you.

But at the same time, I know what this says about me. That my faith is being tested. That I am going through the desert and the One i should be petitioning for my soul I am ignoring. These machinations of the human mind... I am a master of them.

I am sorry for not walking with you. I am sorry for evicting you all from my heart these last months. I am tired. And my house is a mess. And I am not worthy to receive you.

I am oh so proud despite how small I am. And on this lonely island I suffer purposefully in isolation. I do not understand me.

Father

I am avoiding my father.

I love him. But I am avoiding him. And I am avoiding him when he needs me most.

I am not picking up the phone. I am not calling back. I am calling when I have the energy only. When it crosses my mind and I have need to be once again reminded of the actuality that my father needs me. And that I cannot allow myself to need him.

He was always remarkably strong. An amazing physical presence. Larger than life in personality and knowledge and commitment and duty.

But I am cowardly now that he is fading. He is exhausted caring for Mom every day.

His vision has all but failed him now. He sets things out so he might find them. Because it is difficult for him to find them. And Mother does what she does to remain oriented; she puts them away... albeit not where they belong or will be found easily by the blind man who cares for her.

"It is like caring for an infant now," he says. "Every day I have to remind her of so many things. And she has a real need to go places. She can't stay still. She can't stay in the house. She's always got to be going, going, going."

It is a perpetual scavenger hunt, really. He puts it on the counter to thaw for dinner. She puts it "away." He asks her about it. She does not recollect. He presses her on it and she becomes angry. He finds it days later in a dresser drawer for the smell.

This woman was so bright. Brighter than most any. And Dad was so strong. Stronger than most any.

But I cannot call when I should call. I cannot answer when I should. I am sad. I am sad. I am sad.