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Pensive Musings





Here are some photos from my thirtieth birthday party. It was a fun night and also a time I realized that I no longer wanted to drink where my tummy did not like me. That is the most euphemistic way I could possibly word that. :-)

Ushering in a new decade beckons celebration and I did just that.

Now that "Les Mis" is open I have to get my head back into the game... well, actually I have to get my head into a few different games: school, apartment hunting, grad school scouting (what a difficult journey this one has become), writing songs, starting "Bevan and Noki", etc.

My Mother informed me a couple of weeks ago that she had sold the trailer and that we were to be out in 36 days. Now to preface this (ha -- actually to preface this I would have to actually do a preface before the other sentence to embody the definition of a preface, but I find this to be more interesting because I am the King of Asides...) my Mom had made me aware that she was going to be moving out and getting married to her boyfriend. I knew that I had a few months... hmmm...

I need to move out and be on my own (not even meant to be a "Les Mis" tie-in, but it is on my mind I guess) and am welcoming the new environment. It is time. However, I thought that when my Mom eventually dated I would have the opportunity to "sink into it" and get to know the guy and become accustomed to the change.

I feel as though I have been blindsided by Hurricane Janet. :-) (I only use the Hurricane term because it is palpable and in no way to make light of the actual hurricanes inflicting harm on the country.) To differentiate let me say Mom and Janet. Janet deserves to be in love, taken aback by romance, and every emotional nuance therein.

It just happened so damn fast.

Mom is single.
Whoosh {{{{{{{{
Mom is dating.
Whoosh{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{
Mom is in love.
Whoosh{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{
Mom is getting married.
Whoosh{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{

I feel that there are two parts of me in these situations. One: I am doing a jig for Janet because she deserves this happiness after the seemingly constant upheavals in her life the past few years. Two: I am trying to process my Mom getting remarried to a man I hardly know (what I have seen of him is overwhelmingly positive) and starting a new life with him, and me beginning again....

I have been asked to sing at the wedding. It is an honour and a double-edged sword. Two distinct moments rush to my heart's surface: the last time I sang at a wedding was the last time my Dad heard me sing and performing three songs at my Dad's funeral.

Mom has been mindful to ask if it would be weird for me to perform at the wedding. She has done nothing "wrong" per se. I just wish I had more time to juggle this into my psyche.

It is one of those situations when the heart and mind are in opposition sometimes. I miss Dad and, every once and a while, wish that things were back to "normal"... where there was no new guy, no wedding, none of that... when things made sense.

I know that will not happen, but I must acknowledge it's existence in my soul.

I have found that you just never "get over" this thing called "grief". I have used several analogies and written blogs, songs, notes, bios about it and paying homage to the man that was my beloved Dad. Yet, I cannot ever seem to convey the hole that appears sometimes... one that just draws me in and takes my breath. I have never missed anyone like I miss him and I guess that is at the crux of my dilemma over this.

Janet deserves everything she gets, but I want my Mom to always be with my Dad.

And I am having a hard time getting over the fact that is over and that I hate how much that SUCKS.

I think I have sufficiently vented about this.

Now: Off to apartment hunt and start this new phase striving to embrace the changes (Wow -- they have been abundant the past few months) and not be afraid of them....

So:
Here's to Mom and Janet: May this new love heal and mend her heart. She has and shall always be my favourite.
And, always, here's to Dad: Who never roams far from my heart, my motivations, my art, my soul.

Pensively,
Dustin

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