tick...tick...(boom?)

so the pope's gonna die soon.

thinking of that makes me think of my grandfather. my grandfather was a deacon of the Roman Catholic Church. he was also a gigantic asshole. he died a few years ago; i honestly can't even remember what year it was. i didn't go to the funeral nor did i get sad or cry. and it's not one of those grieving cycles that went unfulfilled. therapy is certain not to bring me to sobs after eventually realizing how much i loved him. i never did, really. the flashes of memory i do have of him were that he was somewhat frightening. the stories my mother has told me of her upbringing only seem to validate my judgement. he was abusive and, like many abusers, i'd imagine, he loved his power but hid it from the rest of the world.

my mother once revealed to me that she was raped by one of her brothers when she was a teenager. they still speak, when they are around each other. i find it hard to even look at him. i'm not sure why or how my aunts and uncles have collectively decided that this would be a good way to continue life. i guess, somehow, they just detached themselves from the pain, the anger. i know my mother mourned the death of my grandfather.

these are the skeletons that lie in my family's closet, and i'm not sure what to do with them. they make me want to grieve something i've never encountered. they make me angry. they make me anything other than complacent, quiet.

i think family is a form of religion, and i see myself trying to make it my own.

*****

last night, i saw my 11 year old cousin perform in the All-District Arts Festival at my former high school. he played percussion. his mother and siblings live in the inner city of Newburgh, about two blocks away from the latest murders that have maintained headline status. i picked them all up so he wouldn't have to take a cab to the school. i brought a tie of my brother's for him, and trembled with frustration as i attempted to tie the damn thing around his crisp, taught collar.

we secured some seats and sat through the orchestra and chorus before Jake finally came on. his face, almost immediately, became scrunched with concentration. his first instrument was something that sounded like the infamous cowbell; all i could see were those little ball-ended sticks flailing about his head. then he played the cymbols--to the Star Wars theme! i was so incredibly excited and proud that smiling and laughing nearly resulted in streaming tears on several occasions. he was so adorable, so lovable, so amazing.

it made me yearn for my own child. i want to feel that energy for another human being. i wonder how much of what we know and desire is innate.

(we're fancy mammals; we need to procreate. we need to build firm families so that our offspring survive. )

i seem to be grasping for ones that are already established.

i want to have a good one. i want to start fresh.