Year 3

Every year for the past three years, I’ve neglected this blog, save for a few moments here and there. Some may call my neglect “Life,” but sometimes I wonder if it’s a neglect because of a fear of where creativity can take me — or worse, a fear of whether I’m still creative at all.

But I digress.

Regardless of how often I return to this blog, I always return on this day, May 15th. I return because three years ago, my father died on this day. At 8:00 in the morning on May 15th, 2013, I was getting ready to travel to Dallas. The plan was to go to Dallas, see my mother, celebrate my partner’s birthday with her family, and then travel south to Kerrville, TX, where my Dad was staying with my Aunt Ronda.

Instead, I got that phone call.

Not a day has gone by that I haven’t thought of him. I have a set of books I bought for him while he was ill — the last thing he asked of me. There was a mix-up with the post office, so the books were never delivered. I was going to give them to him when I saw him that week.

He loved to read. One of his last posts on Facebook thanked my Great Uncle or giving him a love of reading so that he could see a light in the darkness of his pain. He wasn’t rich, he wasn’t famous, he didn’t have much, especially in his final year of life, but he was important. He was kind.

He prided himself in his work — especially in protecting the people of the apartment complex I grew up in. He knew everyone’s name. He spoke fluent Spanish, and instead of assuming (as many in this country do) that people need to learn English to live here, he conversed with others in their native tongue.

Every time I became interested in something, he would find a way to share it with me. He read every Harry Potter book so that we could discuss them together. He even picked up video games to do the same. We had a tradition of seeing movies together. He even introduced me to my love of lattes (granted, that first latte was a “Snickers” latte, so I’m not sure how much caffeine was really in it), came over to my mother’s house to make me chicken broth when I was sick, and held a slumber party for me and my friends when I was a preteen, sleeping on his patio while we took over his living room.

Dan loved to cook. And when he met Shan, he invited us over for dinner and made her grilled eggplant with other Vegan options to accommodate for her dietary needs.

And last, of course, he loved dogs. So much. If he had continued living, I’m confident he would have a tiny home, living in the woods by a river with two German Shepherd/Akita mixes to share the rest of his life with.He was more suited to the kind of life of solitude created by J.D. Salinger.

When I visited Boulder this year, I visited the apartment complex he lived in when he was there in 1994. It seemed much bigger when I was a kid, but there are so many good memories. The kinds that outweigh the bad ones.

He wasn’t perfect. But he was my Dad.

I love you, Daddy. I’m glad you’re at peace.

https://www.instagram.com/p/BFatTVpvmld/?taken-by=seannatucker

2015: Something More

It’s 2015! As if you didn’t know and have been living under a rock. Or, you’re currently in an Asian Country waiting for the *real* new year to begin.

On this third day of the year, Shän and I have been resting. Or, she has been and I’ve been OCDing the apartment up, cleaning and hanging portraits on the wall, pretending it’s spring all while fog seeps over the city and the cold creeps into my apartment through porous concrete and bring walls. If you don’t remember (don’t worry, I totally forgive you), we moved into a loft back in August. We got rid of the final boxes in December, in time to donate to Goodwill for the Holidays.

Donating to Goodwill, along with the cleaning and organizing rituals that I’ve been committing, as Shän attempts to sleep off the same cold she and I have had for the past two weeks, have been calming. I guess, like many North Americans, I’m pretty much a resolution junky. I shouldn’t be. The promise to change is often difficult, and many of us wind up disappointed to learn in a couple of weeks that we’ve dropped our goals and have returned to who we truly were before the New Year began.

I have some disdain for all of the “Lose Weight!” “Look Better!” “You Need to Change!” books that are out right now. From my experience working in Barnes & Noble, I can tell you right now that there is probably a front display, most likely the octagon where you seek out the latest bestsellers, that is covered in diet and weightloss books. I try not to fall into fads, so I avoid these like the plague.

But I did love Yoga once upon a time, so on Friday I got up a few minutes early and did a 15-minute Yoga workout (mostly Sun Salutations), wherein I didn’t use my Mat because it’s currently in my “attic” (our bathroom has a dropped ceiling that’s maybe 8ft, where the rest of our apartment has, like, 15 ft high ceilings, so we have a storage area) and I forgot to leave it down when we moved in.

Pro Tip: It is a bitch doing Yoga on Hardwood Floors. Also, using a towel in place of said mat is impossible.

But on top of the Yoga, I’m obviously here, back to writing. And I’m reading more again. 2014 wasn’t a good start for Shän and I. We were told to move out of our apartment (because a University wanted to turn it into dorms) in less than two months, which put a lot of our plans on hold for the year. Shän’s depression was the worst it had been so far, in the five years we’ve been together. She had to take time off of work. I adjusted to a new job and so did she.

However, I am happy to report that things are becoming steady. She now works for a major corporation, in a job that makes 1 1/2 times more than her previous job; we have a beautiful new loft; my new job allowed me to work during the week (instead of weekends all the time!) so we could spend more time together; and our bunny is still pretty happy and healthy, no matter what he may tell you about how few treats he receives (because that would be a lie!). Her depression has started to level out more than ever, and we’re falling back into a routine as a couple.

Because of this, we both have more time to write and do what we want to do.

Cheers to a new year!

A Small Piece of Advice about Relationships

I recently celebrated my 5-year anniversary with Shan. When you watch movies, it seems like “Eh, Five Years, Nbd,” but in reality, especially when your relationship began when one of you was in College, this is pretty good. It’s a feat.

A lot of people have believed, at one time or another, that we didn’t belong together. That because we were having problems at home, no matter their origin, that means that two people shouldn’t be in a relationship together.

Let me tell you how angering that is.

Relationships, dear people, are not cut and dry. It is not about whether or not you fight. If you have an argument, no matter how huge it is, if you’re willing to work on the relationship or willing to understand where you went wrong, then you don’t necessarily have to be over. It’s ridiculous that people think you do.

Do you have friends who are in a relationship? Do they fight? Are they still insistent on being together?

Then get over it.

If you’re really concerned, talk to your friend. Sit down with them (not after they just had a fight with their significant other, they’re not in their rational mind) and find out why they’re still in that relationship. Talk to them when they’re at their 100%, not anything less. Because if you talk to them after a fight, you’re going to get all of their emotions from the fight, and none of their actual feelings.

If, when you speak to them while they’re at their 100%, they dodge the question, then you have something to worry about.

If they do sit down with you and tell you that, yes, we have these problems, but we’re still willing to work on them – then great!

No one can know for sure what happens in your relationship. This past year has been incredibly difficult for Shan and I. My father passed away – Shan went through a breakdown – I transitioned into a new job – Shan just transitioned into a new job – We bought a new car together – We moved from a small, safe suburb to Downtown Saint Louis (we love our loft!) – and more, probably. I didn’t even know how insane this year was until I just wrote it all out.  If you look up the top five stressful things to go through, pretty sure that all of them except “Get Married” are on there.

#EndRant

So, five years down. Hopefully the 6th won’t be as difficult!

Dear Zelda

I don’t know you. None of us on the internet really do – we know your smile, that your father called you his little girl and that, despite what some may say, you were named after a video game and not the First Flapper.  We’ve heard you laugh and tease with your dad and that now, devastatingly, you’ve lost him. We lost a brilliant talent,while you have lost the man you love most in the world.

I am deeply sorry for your loss. The anger I feel over the bullshit that people think they have the right to put you through is indescribable. You lost your father. I don’t care how, I don’t care what to, I don’t care how many pictures of him you have.

My father passed away last year. Not because of depression, but because of a heart-wrenchingly quick bout of stomach cancer, but the differences don’t matter. They’re both diseases. They both take people away.

I don’t know how you feel. I can guess, I can make assumptions based on clues, but I won’t do you the indecency of pretending I know your true feelings. I read something about grief – that we can’t compare our grief. Grief is not a competition. Don’t let anyone tell you that it is. Don’t let people tell you that because they lost two people, or they lost someone to a different disease, that their world was more shattered than yours’.

You won’t get over it. I know that now. Ten years from now, I’ll still find something to cry over. Something to think about. I think about him everyday, and I’m not sure that will change.

I know you’ve escaped the internet, or at least social media. That’s completely understandable. Actually, if you see this and find yourself to my blog, you’ll find plenty of gaps here because of something similar. And I want to tell you this: I don’t have that many pictures with my Dad either. I treasure the ones I do have, but mostly I remember his laugh. The way he told stories. The movies he loved. I’m sure that these are pretty similar to what you remember.

Keep your family and friends close. It will be a hard year.

You have a million people out there rooting for you. Ignore the assholes.

And one last thing – you and I, as people – as human beings – we’re sisters.

With much love,

Seanna