Go cry about it, why don’t you?
-Slow Dancing In A Burning Room, John Mayer
I very nearly cried this morning.
I’ve been stressed out, worried, frustrated and I think that’s what’s been affecting my emotion tolerance threshold. Because, God knows, I am not usually this way. It’s like when I’m sick and my tolerance for bullshit drops so low that I won’t take anything from anybody. I sorta like that version of me; this one, not so much.
Either way, I felt my eyes pricking upon hearing something I probably wasn’t supposed to know. That, in and of itself, hurt enough, but not enough for me to cry about. No, the almost tears came from the realization that I really could lose someone else that I care about and he has no idea how I truly feel about him. And it could be happening as soon as tomorrow.
I still carry residual guilt about not seeing my father before he succumbed to a heart attack that left him brain dead. Still remember the frustration I felt when my sister called me at work to say he was in the hospital and my only response was an irritated again? after learning he was ok. I could never have guessed that less than 12 hours later, I’d never hear his voice ever again and that 4 days later we’d be burying him.
At least my dad knew I loved him. I never left his presence without saying so.
I always think there’ll be more time. Time for me to be forewarned so that I have the right words to convey what it is I want to say when the actual time comes. Instead I sit, thinking about all the things I should have said, but didn’t. And how I never get the chance again.
Guilt is a bottomless dish. Every time your plate gets cleared, more gets served to you- free of charge, of course.