The memories have been creeping up on me.
From the first time skiing together and that first cigar in the hot tub, to our first drive to Vegas. Vegas was our town. We had Vegas by the balls. We would go several times a year and only once we came home a loser.
I remember the first trip to Buffalo for Thanksgiving, while living in San Diego, and from then on Thanksgiving was celebrated with Mom.
Moving to Virginia was a feat in itself.
First weekend we moved here we got a dog
That was Ms. Daisy. I taught her to sit and shake, within 15 minutes of her being home with me. Since then, she was my dog. She would suck up to the other family members, but she loved me the most. Or rather, she knew I needed her the most. She was always there for me. After Brian died, she was the trooper and stuck next to me as long as she could before she too had to go to sleep and become my angel.
Other memories, some good, some bad always come to the surface. I will wake up crying or wake myself up laughing. I sleep for few hours now a days. I tend to dream too much.
I miss who I was when I was with him. That is one thing I cannot get back. I have tried, and failed. When I am happy, I am a different person. It doesn't matter who I am with, it doesn't matter what I am doing. I still feel that I am missing something. Will this feeling that I am trying to capture be the death of me?
I wrote 5 people who have the same birth name as I. I found them on FaceBook and they are living in the Southern California area, so I went for it. I am sure that a few of them will think that I am one of those long lost relatives that found out that one of them won the lottery. Wouldn't that be funny if true? It took me almost 3 years to write a small introduction, explain to them what my intentions were and what I wanted to achieve. With Messenger you can tell if the recipient read the message, and so far no one has. It has been 4 days. What I want is easy, I want to know who I look like, what are my roots? Who does my son look like? Did my brothers and sisters have a better life than I did? Do I have something that I can share with them, something that would make them happy? Something that could provide purpose to my life. I am sure that is what everyone wants at the beginning. Then once the simple questions are answered then you want to know all of the family gossip and what you missed out on, growing up with an abusive alcoholic. I doubt that I would share my trails and tribulations of growing up with her with them. The devil on my shoulder would like to blurt out, what happened in my life and how awful it was, but then again, maybe their life was even worse. I am documenting everything, so I can finish the book that I am writing. I needed something close to me, in order for the book to be finished. Something that has a type of closer. Closer can be meant in so mnay ways here. I mean closure could just be me sending the messages and then the lights grow dim. It depends on how I feel after I sent them. When I finished sending the messages to all, I didn't feel a sense of closure or finishing. I felt like I was opening up a new chapter of my life.
As the hours go by, I kept a listen out of the distinctive ringtone for message alerts. I tend to jump when I hear it, but come to find out it is someone else wanting information or wanting to talk. When that happens, I feel a sense of sadness. I don't want to keep my hopes up too long. If the messages do not work, then on to the next thing. I will figure something out, maybe I need to friend them on FaceBook.