Ship That Passed Too Swiftly

I was talking with my friend Em (who is also one of my exes), and I was caught by an unexpected melancholy while she spoke of her daughter. Whenever she talks about her child, she becomes noticeably more vibrant, joyful, and enthusiastic. As she spoke of those little moments you can only share with a child, the tears began to stream down my face. I know it was about my absentee family, the death of my father, the way I was erased from their lives, even in the case of my father's death...and I know it was about the overweening sensation of loss that I never felt loved by my family, and wished to know what it was like to have that healthy, loving, parent-child dynamic. Me, the child, was gone. Me, the parent was a ship that passed too swiftly in my night...


I am again reminded of that sensation (fear?) that i will never know what it feels like to nurture a young life, to really matter to someone that much; to have that kind of impact on another evolving human. Never mind that I may not ever fall in love again, or have a partner to share the rest of my life with. What if I never know the joy of having a child in my life? 

And I am again reminded of the tragedy of having only one life, and how it always seems too short. How time has become my enemy.

So again, Em encouraged me to check into foster parenting. The idea seemed to make more and more sense as we discussed it again. This time, it felt even more fitting for me.

So I took that first step. I contacted the Heart Gallery for information on getting started in the foster parenting program.

I'm scary excited.

ADDENDUM:
Because i live in a one-bedroom apartment, I have no room for a foster child. duh. Funny how the obvious things get missed. sigh.

Ship That Passed Too Swiftly

Surviving Family Member

My father is dead.
He's been dead for 13 days.
I got to hear about it from a friend who got a call from another friend who saw it in the paper, and I was not mentioned in the obit as a surviving family member. This is ironic because surviving my family is exactly what i had to do.

I'm pissed off that I'm crying. Why would I have tears for someone who threw me away like used coffee grounds, and with as little consideration?

I know I'm not crying for the loss of him. Or the loss of them. I'm crying for just the loss. The utterly selfish and heartless nature of their rejection. Where did this come from? Not from the chore of raising me, I don't imagine. I had never been a bad kid. I never drank, had sex, never got pregnant. Never did drugs. Never got arrested. What was my transgression worthy of their blatant disgust and dismissal? I suspect it was because I was gay. I might never know for sure. OF course, that wouldn't explain the way they treated me before even *I* knew i was gay. Maybe they just used that as a convenient excuse.

But when i had finally grown weary of trying to win their love i decided i would just stop contacting them and see what happened. I never heard from them again. Their silence was my answer.

So as far as I'm concerned, on January 7th, 2010, my entire family died.

Surviving Family Member

Virtual Strangers (a Play in One Act)

FADE IN:

INT. - POPULAR SINGLES BAR - NIGHT

In a bar specifically for singles who are seeking partners. patrons mill about, as is normal for most social establishments. But they are all moving about inside a white cardboard box. On the outside of the boxes, there is text. Each of them is also wearing a bag over their head.

The text on the boxes is information about themselves. A profile. Sometimes there's only one line of text, sometimes the surface of the boxes is filled up with a great deal of detail.

One Boxed & Bagged person approaches another.

B&B1
Hi. I like your profile text.


B&B2
Thank you. I saw yours too...
but there's not much there,
could you tell me more about yourself?

B&B1
Well I would prefer to let you get to know me gradually.
I'll be happy to tell you more if you'll go out with me.


B&B2
Well, what do you look like?
You know I can't really tell with that bag over your head.


B&B1
Oh, I'm really attractive, Trust me. I wouldn't lie.


B&B2
Well, I'd like to have an idea if I'm
attracted before committing to a date.


B&B1
You'll know that when we go out.
When we leave the boxes and bags at home.
Don't worry. Everyone says I'm really good looking.

B&B2
(hesitating)
Well...I also need to know enough about you
to feel safe going out with you.

B&B1

Wow, maybe you're being paranoid.

B&B2
Don't you want to know what I look like?

B&B1
Oh, that doesn't matter to me.
I'm interested in what's on the inside.

B&B2
Oh, so you can be attracted to just about anyone,
no matter what they look like?

B&B1
Pretty much.

B&B2
Then how would I ever feel special?

B&B1
Special. Well that comes from the inside.
I don't need to see your face or your body to
know I'm attracted to you. I like the text on
your box well enough.

B&B2
Okay, but I am not physically attracted to text.
I have to be attracted physically to pursue anything
romantic, and I don't seem to have control over who
I'm attracted to. It just happens or it doesn't.
None of the other information matters,
if I'm not going to be attracted.

That's why I need to see you somehow, first.
I know I am attracted to certain things,
physically, and I'd like to be able to see you,
so I can gauge that before we spend much
more time with this...Could you take the box and bag off?

B&B1
I've already told you I'm attractive.
If you don't believe me, you must have trust issues.
I can't get involved with someone who's like that.
I deserve better.


B&B1
But I don't know you.
I don't know if I can believe what you say--
you're a virtual stranger to me.

B&B2
I can see that not only do you have trust issues,
but you're just shallow and superficial.

B&B1

Now wait just a minute! That's not fair.
You don't even know me.

B&B2

(walking away in disgust)

Forget it, you shallow bitch.

Virtual Strangers (a Play in One Act)