Friday, July 3, 2009

4. Thoughts from the forfront.

vintage family, grandparentsImage by freeparking via Flickr

Dear Diary Feb 25, 1997

The police are here. My father is dead. Self inflicted gun shot wound to the head. I didn't even know Dad owned a gun. Turns out he's owned one all my life. I'm laughing at it, it doesn't seem real. He's DEAD. Money is going to be tight now. Will I regret stuff? That I've been mean to him, or that I didn't spend enough time with him? There are cops here, they're talking about telling Grandma. She'll have a heart attack. And all I can think about is the sympathy I'll get. Why didn't anyone ever tell me we owned a gun? Will I have to cancel all my plans? I hope mom doesn't start drinking. Life is going to be so different. He's dead. Mom and Nana are planning the funeral. He's going to be dead in that box...Do you think I'll cry now? I don't feel tears, I'm the most together person here. I can't believe this is happening to ME. Wow...


I called up a few of my friends, they were shocked, they didn't' know what to say. Nana and Uncle Joe are here, Aunt Lisa and Ted. Its so weird, everyone tries to comfort me, and I don't want it. I feel invisible, no one is listening to me.

What if mom gets remarried? Or if we have to move back to our old town? I feel like everyone is trying hard to act sad, but its only an act. Nana said we might rent out the basement to keep up the money. Mom called Grandma, she was sobbing.

And now, I end a Chapter in my life, ironically, the last page in my diary. Its almost 2 am, and "My heart will go on" by Celine Dione is playing on the radio. Aunt Lisa says she's surprised I'm reacting like this. I've got a good head. Life goes on, my life will at least. I don't think I'll ever cry, maybe one day. This is so selfish of my dad, leaving us like this...Life goes on...

When it happened, I was on boyfriend number two. Juan was a dark skinned boy from my old town who I had met online. He was two years older then me. We had only been dating for about six months. His friends had become my friends, two Asian boys, Pete and Jon. Pete had a crush on me, and it I had fun making Jaun and him compete. I had made a few new friends in the town of Springfield, but nothing as concrete as the friends I had grown up. The friends who had quite recently turned their backs on me. While we were sitting Shiva, while my family was grieving, I was with my boys, with my friends. On the outside, I was always smiling, laughing, I was a typical teenage socialite. I don't know what my family must have thought of me.

Dear Diary, Feb 26 1997

They say Dad was Depressed. Grandma knew, and she had told him to tell mom. He should have been on pills they said. I mean, its over now, but if Grandma had just spoke up. but now I'm looking on the bright side. Mom will have a harder time controlling me, and I'll have more privacy, and maybe mom will get remarried. Maybe the guy will have kids? But now I have a lot of chores, and money is really tight. I'll be home alone now more then usual. Mom, Nana, and Aunt Lisa left somewhere around 10 am, they should be home soon. I told May, she was shocked.

I keep thinking that Pete was talking to my Dad right before he left. I kept telling Pete he was a grump and he only laughed when I told him I wasn't joking. Dad was acting grumpier then usual. I keep thinking how Dad was all uptight about little stuff like the newspaper, and the money. I wonder what was going through his head, he had a daughter and a wife, and parents who almost had a heart attack when they found out. He is really selfish...or was...I have to write was now...I'm just like him, selfish and stubborn. What if I do the same thing one day?

Dear Diary, Feb 27, 1997

The Rabbi just left. They want me to write a poem for Dad. The Rabbi said I was angry and blameful. She said she could feel it. I kept thinking I don't want to talk. I felt like if I said something, I'd cry. The funeral is tomorrow. I have a choice of looking at him. I'm going to cry. I don't want to. I'm scared. If I talk about him, how he was, stuff he did, I think I'll cry. I can't. Stay strong, find it, find the strength, I don't want to cry! This is crazy.

Dear Diary, Feb 28, 1997

I woke up, pulled on my black clothes, and went with Nana, Uncle Joe, and mom to the burial thingy in Maplewood. Pete came first out of all my friends, and then Liz and Susan. They all cried, and then Jon came, shaking again. This was all after we looked at the body. I say, 'the body' because it didn't look like dad. I didn't want to go in with just mom, so I told Nana and Aunt Lisa to come in too. Mom took one look and started sobbing. She spent about five minutes standing over him. I stayed sitting, and comforted mom. When I did take my look, I was repulsed. But a little curiosity brought me back and I looked again. It was so scary. I can't explain it. I saw him, but it wasn't my father. Grandma and Grandpa looked and started crying too. The ceremony was solemn, they read my poem, and Aunt Lisa gave a speech and started crying at the end.

At the end of the funeral, Liz and Susan promised never again would that happen. We'll always talk. Forever. I love Liz.

After it was all over, we slowly drove down the highway in one of those processions of cars that follows a hearse with the head lights on. We got to the cemetery and buried dad.

Prom is coming up soon. Both Pete and Juan want to take me. Why are things so good, when really they are horrible? I have so many great friends, and I have such a wonderful family, even if I deny it. Everyone says I'm going to get sad soon. I am sad, my smile is forced most of the time, and so is my laugh. Life is going to be so different from now on. Its 12:22 am, I'm so tired. Goodnight.

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