Of Water and Blood

I haven’t felt like writing much the past week. Not because I dislike writing or grew tired of it, but because I’ve been emotionally and mentally exhausted. The words just simply wouldn’t come.

Since my grandfather’s passing, I’ve sorta been expected to be a behind the scenes mediator from two thousand miles away. A daunting and uneasy task. A task that I haven’t been willing to complete. You see, my father is a bit of (a lot of) an ass. He’s a narcissist. I knew that once my grandfather passed away, something would happen, I just wasn’t sure what. Either my father was going to snap or he was going to wake up. And while yes, my father is frequently insufferable, I couldn’t argue with his crusade. Based on the information of the conflicts presented to me, the man was being fairly reasonable and level headed. A shock. While he’s still an ass and a narcissist, he’s at least starting to see beyond himself a little bit. I’m not sure how long it will last, but we shall see.

During this time or turmoil, I wouldn’t be right side up without the help of my better half. That man has mopped up buckets of angry tears. He’s held my hand through every step of my way through my conflicted feelings. He’s baked cookies and given them to me with ice cold milk. He’s dragged me out of the house and into the light of day. He’s given me hope. He’s made me laugh. He’s been my light. And it hasn’t been just him. A couple of close friends have checked in as well, which is more than I can say for family.  Who is there for you the most is not always who you might expect.

For the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb.