Okay... I'm sorta cheating again...

I was reading Melissa's entry tonight and leaving a comment on her message board and the words just kept coming and coming and coming. And they threw me for a loop.

So, I'm going to post that message here...

Melissa...

You DID the right thing. You are a woman of honor and value. Choose not to beat yourself up about it.

And, my grandfather died in June of 92. I sang at his funeral. I sat there, 21, three months away from my 22 birthday...

I remember the way he looked in the coffin. Or rather, I remember the way I felt about the way he looked there. I can't remember his face anymore.

If it weren't for pictures, I wouldn't remember what he looked like. I can't remember his voice. I can't remember it even tho he sang to me and played his guitar for me and told me stories and taught me "Little Bunny Froo froo"

I can't remember his voice.

I sang at his funeral.

The Wind Beneath My Wings.

I remember looking into the casket... seeing his face and knowing if I just shook him hard enough, he'd wake up and take me by the hand, walking out of there.

God, I miss him so much.

And every time I smell someone smoking a pipe... I smell my grandfather.

I remember his hands. Almost as if there were a spotlight on them and everything else were in black on black. They were so very strong... but so gentle.

And I can actually feel the not-quite-sandpaper roughness of his hands as he'd sit beside me and pat my arm. I remember him sitting in a chair at Neva's the day I'd fallen asleep in the pool (in Southern Cali, high desert of VictorVille). I'd burned my arms, just the upper part of my shoulders... I was about 8 or so and I'd fallen asleep in the pool... in an innertube.

I had huge blisters on my arms.. three of them on each shoulder/upper arm.

I remember him sitting there in that chair, me standing before him, my side to him, tears streaming down my face cause I thought I was in trouble.

He had a cube of ice and a needle and he was doing first aide on my arms. He would pierce the blisters and drain them a little, then rub the ice over them... and the only thing I remember from that... I mean, the only thing that really stands out... is the texture of his fingers... they were rough on my skin.. but that really faint roughness. Like the buffing side of an emery board.

But warm... and so very gentle. I still don't know how he held me still without squeezing my arm.

My god, how I miss him.

I remember him telling me that we had to be very careful. And that we weren't going to tell Mom... cause then she'd be mad at Grampa.

*smiles softly, a few tears slipping*

God, I miss him so much.

So very much.

I miss "little bunny froo froo"

But those hands...

And the smell of that pipe.

I love you Grampa.

So... wow...

Sometimes the memories reach up and smack me on the ass when I least expect them. I'll live tho. And I'll live happily.

Cause I had a grandfather.

With not-quite-sandpaper hands.

Who smoked a pipe.

Who loved me.

I got my red hair from him. And my freckles.

I miss my grampa. Tonight I really miss him.

I didn't get to say goodbye to my grampa. He was dying, of cancer. Lived in southern cali. Mom and Dad went down there in may of 92 and spent a week. Mom got to say good bye.

I kept asking if I could come down for a visit.

They kept saying... not this week. wait a week... he's too sick this week.

That went on for a month.

And then... he just died.

Neva let me come down for the funeral as long as I promised not to get in the way. *smiles sadly* God, she loved him so much. She didn't really know me. Hell, I wasn't really very important in her life. Never have been. But that's fine... she has pleanty to do to keep herself busy.

But I went down for the funeral. I asked her if I could have grampa's guitar. that's the only thing I wanted. God, I mis him so much... I can't believe this, I'm sitting here in my room fucking bqawling......

god I miss him

I was talking with a friend tonight... and I realized that I've been labeling the things I want incorrectly. Or rather, one of the things...

I've always thought I wanted a man who would love and cherish me. But I was going on a romanticized version of "love and cherish" that I created when I was about 5 years old or so.

What I really want... is to be respected. to be heard and understood. And I've been irritated because I thought my ex didn't love me. He loved me... he just didn't understand, respect or hear me.

it's hard for a man to understand a woman.

Hell, men and women have entirely different thought proceses. Completely different.

Most generally, men talk to communicate an idea or concept.

Most generally, women talk to discover what they believe. To come to a conclusion.

This gets to be very irritating for many men (I get that information from my male friend Forvalaka, so I'm not making this up out of my ass)

Most men, when they're listening to women, recognize what will solve the problem almost immediately. And the woman keeps talking and talking and talking. The irritation sets in when the woman finally comes to a conclusion. And it's the same thing the man thought of, twenty minutes to three hours earlier.

Men... if possible... just listen to your lady. Allow her to talk it through, BECAUSE... most women need to verbally process. which means, they need to talk through all the tangents.

Let me draw an analogy...

Take a road map. Unfold it and spread it out on a table.

most men will look at the road map. They will see point A. Locate point B. and then, in a matter of moments, notice the most direct route. The easiest/quickest way to get from A to B.

Most women will look at the road map. They will see point A. follow a road out of point A and see where it leads. They will follow it with their finger and see it leads in a direction they don't really want to go... But, perhaps they will find something of interest along that road anyway.

Then, they continue and follow the lines as the mind takes them in that direction... eventually ending up fairly close to point B. Sometimes directly at point B. sometimes just close to it.

*shrugs* It's often necessary for a woman to look at the other roads, exploring all the options she finds before her.

Sometimes, a woman will look at the map, see point A. see point B and realize that's exactly where she wants to go and she will see a direct route, but it's not the same one the man chose.

*shrugs*

All of you who think that men and women are really very similar are either extremely young, or haven't experienced day to day, interpersonal relationships with the opposite sex. (I'm not talking about sexual relations at all)

There are some men who think in the round-a-bout way most women do. And there are some women who think in the linear fashion that most men do.

And, I'm sure there are some men and women who are extremely similar.

I think that I have moments of linear thought. But I know that I have many, many moments of round-a-bout thinking too.

I have a sister who is very, very "female" in that she does the round-a-bout thought thing. Only, she get's thrown off track way too quickly. The tangents with her are far more frequent and far less identifiable than my own. (and that's a scary concept.)

let me put it this way... a typical conversation between she and I will last about 30 to 80 minutes. I will speak for about 5 minutes. And I will give the same amount of information in those five minutes, as she will give in an hour.

*shrugs*

But still... anyone who's read my diary KNOWS that I have a LOT of long-winded and round-a-bout thinking moments.

it happens.

Anyway... I'm closing this now. I'm going to post another entry for Tiger, too, and then I"m going to go to sleep. It's almost 5 in the morning for me. And I've only had eight hours of sleep since Wednesday morning. It's now Saturday morning.

I'll contemplate letting you guys have a break from my "verbosity" over this weekend. But I doubt you'll have it. *smirks*

Love and all to you and yours.

J

I miss you, Grandpa.