Every Holiday I mourn or maybe recreate the past and the hole that is a part of me.

It was dug by days of heavy drinking parents and relatives and also parents that didn’t drink but lived the life anyway.  I was a child in those days. Looking out from my body and watching their pain wanting to fix it for them. That was what I did as a kid. As a teenager

my pain was directed more at self hatred of myself and the world for giving me this life.

Now it’s coming again the holidays and all that it was and trying to make it my own today. Even in the drinking days there was still love. Searching for this love in the madness. Today my hatred has softened but I still search for the connection of family. Not having to make their pain my own is a struggle.

Turning turning it all over as I walk the highway of death. Buddhists like to meditate on death. Just for today I am alive in this second.

Meeting up with other like minded humans tonight