I guess these are just sad thoughts. It's hard not to miss someone when you see them in strangers. It's hard to imagine what my dad looks like now, if he's still the same as those pieces of him that I remember. A green suede jacket, some brown slacks, and black leather strap watch. It wasn't hard to draw this figure, especially in the way he's sitting. I can't draw hands but this time I did. And I drew what I imagined.
It's always seemed unnecessary that I even have these thoughts (I've inherited an emotional warmth and a frigid disposition which makes me a confused person). My father is alive, I spoke to him last night. But it's hard to feel like a little piece of him isn't gone forever, especially when he can't bring himself to say he wants to retire with us by his side. It's hard not to miss someone when they aren't a clear part of your life; when their role was once defined and now seems fully exhausted, yet there was never any precise point you can claim this happened.
Being vague is the same as being indecisive, and you can't have the best of both worlds. Maybe this isn't true; maybe I'm saying that because I just finished an Amy Tan story.
