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Ghosts

With the passing of time, memories become ghosts. They lurk in calendars. They live in photo albums. They rattle their chains in the details of stories told.

But are they real?

Some days, yes, and others, no.

As my 35th birthday approached, I heard the rattle of chains in the distance. I began keeping the lights on in hopes that the date would pass without any of my ghosts making a cameo appearance.

I didn't do a very good job, however.

Today, my ghosts are many, and they are real.

Very real.

Eleven year old boys aren't supposed to see their own names on tombstones, but that's the risk that comes with sharing your father's name.

My early childhood was a dual existence in two cities with two sets of parents. Weekdays, my two sisters and I lived with our mother and step-father in Scranton, Pennsylvania. Each Friday, our step-mother would drive an hour and a half to pick us up. We'd spend the weekends in Allentown with her and our father. Fridays were happy days. Sundays were not.

It's pretty obvious what day this photo was taken.

In many ways, I've been living a life of Sundays ever since. With each marvelous hug-filled hello has come a teary goodbye.

And then, another ghost rattles chains in stories told.

I talk about traveling to China but rarely mention the woman I travelled with.

Ghosts.

Where's the old radio friend I helped find job after job? Her career is going well now. My phone hasn't rung in years.

Ghosts.

What happened to the woman who never got in touch after a first date that went rather well?

Ghosts.

It's not the people - it's the memories. They are the ghosts that haunt me. I'd like to say I'd send them away if only I knew how, but really, I wouldn't.

I am, after all, the king of the silver lining... so here it comes.

Without my father, I might not know the true cost of poor decisions. In the end, his cost him his life.

Without that radio buddy I helped to find job after job, I might not know the effect one person can have on another. I gave without ever expecting anything in return, and though I could say I got nothing in return, it would be a lie. I got the satisfaction of helping someone I believed in achieve more than she dreamed of. And that's beautiful.

Without D, I might not know how strong a connection two people can have - instantly. I knew by our second date that I loved her. A part of me always will.

The issue for me isn't the ghosts, it's the Sundays.

I've had enough endings to last me a lifetime.

::::: | Filed under: favorites, the past
::::: | Posted Friday, May 26 2006 at 10:57 PM
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