Huh. My mom brought up my father today during the O.C.
I didn't really know what to do, so I just carried on like nothing had happened and changed the subject.
Aside from today, she's only ever spoken of him twice over the course of my entire life. All I know about him is that his name was Jose, he was a powerful lawyer, and that he's now dead. He must have died before I was born, or when I was only a few months old as I have no recollection of him. Not even a picture. All our old pictures got left behind in El Salvador. I feel really wierd even thinking about him. Actually, right now, I feel guilty because I never think about him. I never really have. I guess I'm different because I never went through the whole 'where's my daddy?' phase most father-less children go through. It's almost like I feel I'm insulting my mother and critizing her parenting skills for thinking about him and the life we'd have right now if he were alive, which is absurd. She's the strongest person I know, to be able to go through everything that happened to her in El Salvador; and then, decide to take your two kids to a brand new country where you didn't speak the language, know anyone, know the culture, and raise them by yourself. But still, I feel like I'm saying 'you didn't do a good enough job playing both roles, I needed an actual father'. And then I'm faced with my other feeling. The feeling of betrayel. I feel like I'm betraying the memory of my father for forcing myself to not think about him, and that I've done fine without him. Ugh, like I said before, Sigmund Freud would have been very interested in me, had we lived at the same time.
My iPod just played 'Slide' by the Goo Goo Dolls, and then 'Everything You Want' by Vertical Horizon, back-to-back. Talk about blast from the 90s.
And now I'm rambling, so I'll end this. Wish me luck in Philosophy.
