not writing for a day or a week or a year is like experiencing muscle deterioration in my hands from lack of use. essentially, if you don't use it, you lose it. my fingers hit the keys with slight hesitation as i search for the right words to fill the blank space provided. i have learned from experience that the longer i go without purging my mind, the harder it is to do so.
...i do have a bit of an excuse at the moment, however, as i am in Walt Disney World with my family for a brief furlough from the increasingly bitter temperatures in the northeast. my mother and father started jamming Disney down our throats from a very young age, and we were riding space mountain when we only just barely met the height requirement. i have an endless supply of memories from the trips i took to this tourist trap, from craning my neck in order to get the best view possible of the parades to approaching the loading area after waiting excitedly in line for one of my favorite rides. i remember how thrilling meeting the characters always was. they were like celebrities to me and my brother at that age. handing our autograph books to Donald Duck or Goofy or Mickey Mouse made our tiny hands shake. there was no one any bigger than them at that point in life. i may as well have been meeting Lady Gaga...
today things are a bit different. i am older, wiser but also with a touch of pessimism and poetic darkness. the lights don't shine as brightly here, the colors are less vibrant. i explained to my brother today that being here feels like a graveyard, a place filled with grief and recollections of a childhood lost. i have tried to make the best of it, to enjoy the experience through the eyes of my young nephew, but when i see my brother with his son on his shoulders i feel tears welling up. i have not a single doubt that if my father were still with us, he would be so proud of the directions my brother and i have taken in our lives. he would be a doting grandfather, boasting and bragging about the wonderful child that has been brought such joy to all of our lives.
i remember being pushed by my dad through the Magic Kingdom in a stroller. how young i was exactly, i am not sure, but it couldnt have been much older than 3 or 4 years. even at that tender age, i fell in love with the atmosphere and fantasy that is and was Walt Disney World. sitting next to my father on rides like Big Thunder Mountain Railroad and Splash Mountain made me feel safe as my shoulders rested against his large frame. twists and turns, as well as large drops would elicit a loud roar of laughter from him that always made me smile.
my dad is not here anymore, having taken his last breath just over 8 years ago on New Years Day, but i see and feel him everywhere. when i see a particular ride or shop or restaurant, i only think of him. i close my eyes and try my hardest to conjure up those memories as accurately as possible, but the human memory is fallible. as time goes by, i feel more and more distant from the sound of his voice or the feeling of a strong, supportive hand on my back or shoulder.
they call Disney World "the happiest place on earth", but there are exceptions to that phrase. at times, it feels like a place that harbors sadness and pulls the memories from my body to behind my eyelids, where i can feel the tears trying to push their way out.
after dozens of trips over the years, i no longer get as excited at the prospect of going into the parks. i fear losing control of my emotions and ruining the experience for everyone else. this place, it carries far too much weight in my mind, body, and spirit. this time, i came for my nephew, and i am glad i did. watching him take in the sights and sounds, smiling and laughing, asking questions and experiencing curiosity has helped to fill the hole inside me with a level of connection and acceptance.
i can feel my Dad everywhere, and i often wonder if i have ever stepped on the exact spot where he walked as he pushed my brother and i through the parks. my brother tells me that the memories i carry are a good thing, and that i should embrace them rather than let them steal the joy of the experience away from me. i know he is right and he is the perfect model of my father in the way that he parents his son as well as how accurate the advice he gives is. he speaks from a controlled place, balanced evenly with wisdom from both his heart and his mind. he has learned to take the best from life and leave the rest. it is a skill i have gotten better at over the years and through experiences, but i still have alot to learn...
i dont want to see this place as a graveyard or a place of mourning and sadness. especially now that i have a young nephew who wants to share this experience with me as much as i want to share it with him. seeing him experience what to him is akin to magic is worth putting my discomfort aside for. i watch him grow from month to month, and time is limited. he will not always want to be cradled in my arms or to read a book in my lap. bright lights and fireworks and his favorite characters will not always thrill him like they do now, and i dont want to miss a second of it, despite my own grief and anxieties.
i have to believe that this is all part of my process of growth. god knows, ive been through them before. they can be uncomfortable as hell and paralyzing in their intensity, but the most effective remedy is to walk straight into the fire the i fear so much. approaching that which makes us uncomfortable gradually, but certainly decreases that level of discomfort... really, its a cost/benefit analysis of what is worth fighting for versus what is not.
my family, my nephew, and my own mental health is worth fighting for. my fathers pride is worth fighting for. being a part of something as opposed to a part of nothing is worth fighting for... the prospect of winning the fight with a sigh of relief and a smile on my face is worth fighting for.
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