Sorry...

Okay, okay, I'm sorry about what I said in my last post. Maybe I was a wee bit harsh. I mean, it wasn't your fault you died. You didn't want to die, right? You didn't kill Dad. But you know me. You produced me, after all, so I guess when I'm like this, it's not unexpected. Were you surprised when I popped out like that? You always knew I carried an armadillo shell to cover a sensitive interior (and we can all imagine what armadillos look like underneath), but it's more than that. I walk that line between honesty and cruelty--I guess they call it brutally honest for a reason. I don't mean to hurt people, I just don't know how not to be that way. You'd be proud though, I've really tried to be better in the past few years, kinder I guess. Your dying helped with that. Husband helped with that.

But when you died, I told myself I wanted to live my life to make you proud, to make your legacy honorable, that I was something that came of it and could add to it by being the best human being I could be (no, I didn't join the army). I told myself that I had to tell the truth, no matter what. Have I really done that? Or is truth-telling a new euphemism for sharpening (your tongue with) your spite? Do I reserve my "truths" for fights with my husband? For slagging off my boss? For judging strangers and friends? Sometimes it's hard to tell what truth to tell. And what is telling the truth anyway? Does it matter if no one hears you? Does it count if it doesn't compromise the comfort of your own life? Is it brave if it doesn't challenge what people think?

There are so many truths worth speaking. I want us to have the courage to talk about fixing our environment now, before it's too late. About how women should be fighting to keep from being ground back under the heel of conservatives and men and other women. I want to ask questions: Are we, as humans, fundamentally unkind? Is there hope for us? I feel like no one knows how to fight back, how to say it, how to make people listen. How to tell the truth. I don't know. I wish I had your answers. The older I get, the more I wish I had your advice to rely on, your wisdom. The way you had of imparting those few gentle words that I could trust and carry with me like a little guidebook. Man, I miss you. I'm just guessing my way through life. Everybody does, but it would be different with you by my side.