I am a man like my ancestors...

I am increasingly like my grandfather—reduced over time (in my case because of trauma) to 10 oft-repeated stories.  Then six.  Then three. Then one (a late night drive on the Merritt Parkway the week before it officially opened—he was CDOT's Director of Safety at the time).  I have one story: how PTSD led to clinical depression.  I know there are other neural pathways in my head but I can't locate them.

 

I am also increasingly like my father—he who found "the one" and stayed with her til her death (in my case, divorce).  He carried on for another eight years, remarrying a loving second wife who was my indefatigable ally at his hospital bedside the final six weeks.  But, my father and I share the realization that the best of our lives had past. I share with my dad the body shaking awareness that there's not reason to make the most of every breath left.  No one matters like our life partner once did to the two of us.

 

I'm also increasingly like my sole brother, who is bipolar.  I'm more prone to the depressive than he is (he only gets depressed when he's back on his meds).  But we're both imprisoned by our manias.  His has something to do with controlling the world.  Mine has to do with anger at the past and fear…so much fear…of the future.

 

Genes.  They appear to come out, in the end.

 

I do not have children.  To those illogical, hypothetical—and as real as obsidian--boys of the future, I love you.  I am so glad to save you from all three of these moments of eternal wounded connection.