A memory...

One of my very earliest memories is of my grandfather. We called him Dad Earl. In my little girl memory, he was such a big strong man. But at the same time, so very gentle with me. He wore glasses, and always had that old man smell. But I didn't mind. I loved him very much.

I remember vividly sitting at the kitchen table at my grandparent's home, waiting for my grandpa to pour us some tea. Sweet tea. My family is from the south, and my grandparents always seemed to have sweet tea in the fridge.

Dad Earl would get the pitcher out of the fridge and he would pour an inch in each of our glasses. Then, while he slowly put the pitcher back in the fridge, I would reach out, take his glass, and drink his tea. By the time he turned around, his glass would be empty and sitting on the table.

He would exclaim, "Who drank my tea?!?" and I would just laugh and laugh. "I did!", I would say. And he'd laugh, telling me "don't you drink my tea!"

And the process repeated itself. I don't remember how many times he did this, but I remember laughing and laughing. Of course, as an adult, I can appreciate the game. Such a simple thing, to make a child laugh. And such a treat.

He died a few months before my fourth birthday. I remember his funeral. My father carried me in his arms up to the casket. It was my first exerience with death. And there was Dad Earl, laid out in his best Sunday suit. I remember asking my dad why he was sleeping in that box. But I don't remember his response.

My mother doesn't believe that I have these memories, but I do. I remember the age spots on the back of his hand as he poured the tea. I remember sitting on the toilet seat watching him shave. He had an old coffee mug with the soap in the bottom and the brush he would use to make it foamy. He used to make me laugh by putting the foam on my face, tickling me.

My favorite picture of me was taken at the cemetary the day of his funeral. It's a black and white photo and I'm standing next to some bushes, holding a white rose. I'm smiling at the camera, not understanding the reason for the trip. Kind of a sick idea, taking photos at a funeral, but that photo brings back those few memories of Dad Earl.

And it makes me smile.

Cowards.

What makes a man a coward?

Is it environment? How a person is raised has a huge impact on who he or she becomes. Is it learned behavior? Does a man learn to become a coward by watching those around him? Is it genetic? Does having a coward for a parent determine if a man or woman carries that trait with them into adulthood?

When I say coward, I mean someone who lacks the integrity to voice their own truth, or opinion. I mean someone who would rather lie to you or not tell you the truth to save face. Someone who runs away at the first sign of distress or trouble.

Where does this yellow streak come from? Do these people gain pleasure from the act of running away? Or just relief? What makes them fear confrontation? No one really enjoys confrontation, but most people weather it quite well. Do these people realize, or even care that their actions can hurt another's feelings?

My last three relationships ended without a goodbye, an explanation, or a fuck you. And this bothers me. I have always thought that I had a fear of commitment because I was the one always ending things. But I have had integrity and was always honest when things were ending. It's been a VERY long time since I didn't return someone's phonecall, or walked away without looking back. Perhaps because I grew up and became an adult and actually cared about people's feelings.

Is there something fundamentally wrong with me that would cause a man to walk away without a backward glance? Do I just have terrible taste in men? Or are they truly cowards...afraid of my reaction to disappointing news? Do I exude some insanity pheromone that makes men think that I will crack at the end and wreak havoc on them? Or do they sense something in me that is withdrawing from them and they jump ship first? Do they sense suspicion or distrust in me? And decide that they are going to get while the gettin' is good? I wonder...

Honestly, I'd like to know. I have tried my best to analyze the situations(after the fact) to determine if my behavior, or lack there of, has caused some widening gulf that sent them running.

How do men show so much interest initially, tell you how interested they are and how interesting you are, and then nothing? Are they searching for something they eventually find out I'm missing?

How can someone tell you one day that they can't wait to see you, and the very next day disappear?

I wish I had the answers.

HNT

This tattoo is on my right thigh...and it means Wisdom. I got this tattoo at the same time I got my other one. Right after I lost my baby. I got it to remind me to stop and take time to think things through....to find wisdom in my decisions.

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