Ruminations (El payaso triste)

There are a few thoughts rolling around my head ... I just found out that my cousin's uncle passed away. I didn't know him well, though I'll never forget his smile, I recall him being a very genial guy, very affable. It got me thinking about my own dad, all the trials and tribulations we've been through, how eventually I'll lose him too. Nothing in this life is forever, our family and friends, we, I, take things for granted. I'm not familiar with that, that type of coping, my cousin Uli has lived with it for most of his life and though I try and ease the pain, I try and understand what he's going though, I'll never truly know until Death raps his knock on our door.

It kind of makes the ordinary pains of my life petty, but I know that that pain is all I know, it's relative, isn't it? The loss I live with has its own melancholy, its own distinct mourning. I can't believe it's been over 2 years and I'm still harping on about it, I realized the other day as I mentioned her yet again, that I haven't let her go. Why is letting go so hard? Why are some memories welcome while others lay oppressive siege to my heart, Troy without Helen.

Don't think I'm trying to equate the pains, either, it's just that I've decided to embrace the phantasms that haunt me, the doldrums that plague my nights, the solace that smothers my waking life. How am I to exorcise these poltergeists if not through the power of the page, the release of the ink, the acceptance of my pain. As a person that wants others to have a great time around them, I'm selfish with certain emotions, even my close friends don't often hear me talk about being depressed, about what's really going on my head but most of the time I feel like un payaso triste and that's okay, I suppose.