When life is busy all you want is a little bit of time to yourself, but when it happens it seems to be the total different for me now. Growing up that’s all you wanted was some time to yourself, time away from your parent’s so that maybe for once you wouldn’t be in trouble or things would just be quiet…. I remember growing up in my teen’s the sound you least wanted to hear was the garage door opening and knowing Dad was home. This usually meant it was time for me to be punished about something or the usually unpleasant drinking of Vodka was about to begin for the evening… if it hadn’t already started somewhere else.

Funny story of the weekend, my wife and I took our son to a couple baseball games in Cincinnati, anyone that has ever been to a MLB game knows how beer is sold every few minutes, up and down the aisle and everywhere in the concession areas. I am not a prude, if that’s what you like, that’s your decision, i just know it is not my decision to partake. My son who is 5 years old has his own perceptions on things, Red Bull and beer make you mean in his words. I have never said anything about these things being bad, he knows that i don’t drink either, but he has this perception and I don’t confirm or deny, probably not good parenting on my part but there are sometimes things I don’t know how to explain as a parent. As we were walking out of the ballpark yesterday he asked us a question that I hadn’t expected, while holding his hand he looked up and said “Daddy was does Homeless mean?” I didn’t know what to say immediately and I told him we would talk about it in the car. I know he is learning to read, but he must have put together the words on some of the signs outside of the stadium. I love to travel to Cincinnati, but the homeless problem there is pretty significant. Throughout the downtown are and especially by the stadiums there are homeless everywhere, I’ve often wondered if there are shelters in Cincinnati or if these individuals somehow don’t conform to the rules by the shelter? How do you explain this to a 5 year old, my wife and a I tried our best to explain, but I don’t think he really understood.

Back to my original point after wandering… being alone is sometimes my worst enemy, I sit and think about the bad things in life. I sit with my dad’s ashes above me and still can’t shake the anger, but I can’t move them, they have been on my mantle since my mother brought them here. I scattered the majority of his ashes after he passed away, my mom kept some in small urns for the both of us, and we even put a small amount in necklace’s for my mom and my grandma to keep. I sometimes feel guilty that I haven’t cried, and believe me there are times while sitting here along that I could, but I want to be stronger than that, I haven’t shed a tear since Christmas Eve, and I am not sure if this is a good or bad thing as well. From May to December I probably cried more than I had in years, not all just from dwelling on my father’s death but other personal things. How do other’s deal with being alone? I am by myself just 3 nights, at least i have my dogs with me, there are all laying on me as I type. Hopefully night 2 and 3 go smoother than the first…


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