Reflections

I've had some weird experiences regarding memories of my dad, and I have been thinking alot about him. This summer, I was reading Harry Potter: Book 7 (awesome, BTW) and remember writing about my dad. I revisited this entry today and thought I'd share...

There is a part of [Harry Potter] I truly identify with. When he is around others who want to understand but can't...when he thinks about [his deceased parents] often, but feels angry and guilty at times. Some part of you is torn apart when you lose a parent--the part of you that looks like them is lost...but your reflection in the mirror is your living reminder of who they were in a breathing body...good and bad morphs together, blurred, and you have faint memories of what you ought to loathe, but can't...the good blurred in like words on the tip of your tongue...barely there, but your sub-conscious mind has a hold of them... you long for more moments with them, but know that new knowledge only comes with others who knew their past-tense--a person you never knew...like they are describing a stranger who was supposed to have birthed you. The feeling is unreal, really...unable to be put in words, but understood, from one orphan to another, an unspoken bond that allows you to relax a little, knowing that they "get" you without words...a sign of relief from having to pretend you are "over" their death. Truth be told, you are never "over" losing a parent (or anyone, for that matter)...all the days of your life, you grieve the lost moments of the future as you stare at them in the mirror.