Year Two.

Year Two. It’s been a strange world, two years without dad by my side. Fleeting memories cause a long, labored sigh filled with every emotion in the spectrum triggered by everything that we’ve been through, that we went through. Everything still reminds me of him, many of which in the happiest of ways, our fruit and the natural world for example. I spent Year One in a deep, introspective mourning while publicly sharing many of my sorrowful thoughts because keeping them inside seemed too lonely to bare. One thing that struck me today was not having someone I could talk to without feeling like I was wasting their time. He’d listen intently on how I saved a dollar, he doesn’t make fun of my roundabout way of storytelling. It didn’t matter what we talked about, just the sheer enjoyment of sitting next to him was enough for me. I just realized that is one thing that has been lacking — sitting next to someone for the sake of sitting next to him or her.

But out of the darkness, choices emerge. I choose no longer to look down. I choose no longer to suffer. These choices are more than words on a screen, they’re made very actively with heartfelt determination.

“I am not a disgrace. I am vengeance! I am the night! I am Batman!” — Batman: The Animated Series

It’s been a new world. Year Two opened with a grand inadvertent adventure, all because I chose to adventure instead of stay inside. I thought about myself for once relative to those around me instead of the other way around. Like a new pup, I slowly started to sniff out and paw at the intriguing and fascinatingly ordinary things that the kids my age were already accustomed to.

Year Three will continue to progress. I’m throwing myself out there, getting into situations where I’m (safely) out of my comfort zone and nervous, the way I have been actively doing for the last three or four weeks.

It’s exciting, I’m nervous, but the best part is everything is new and I feel great.

To Breathe is To Live

“So, son, how does it feel not to have a worry in the world?” - Jor-El to toddler Kal

I started watching Superman: The Animated Series from the beginning. Jor-El has learned that Braniac has been keeping a secret from the people of Krypton as Braniac backs up itself to save itself from the destruction of Krypton. Now Clark is learning how to fly. Now he’s a reporter at the Daily Planet.

In celebration of Father's Day and in honor of my Super Dad, Mom and I watched Man of Steel. I wonder if anyone else was as choked up as I was throughout the film. Dad would have loved it. Ever since watching Man of Steel, ever since meeting a new super friend, I’ve been itching to watch this from the beginning. It’s my fondest memory of Superman, because we watched a lot of it together.

This past Father’s Day was the second of its kind without him by my side. I still have the “Super Dad” present bag that I got him for Father’s day two years ago. The present wasn’t the best, a new pillow, some T-shirts, and maybe some socks, but it was the bag that made it special, super.

I’ve been thinking about him a lot since then, and I think of him often when I’m thinking of life-changing goals or possible plans for the future. Every so often I’m struck with flashbacks of me taking care of him. These are moments when I naturally take a deep breath in (mostly so I don’t pass out), the air tasting sweet in my lungs reminding me that we must breathe to live. Even so, every moment we were together, as difficult as it was, was when my heart was at its calmest. I don't remember the last time my heart was at this state, except when...

Luckily, I laugh with happy memories a thousand times more than I cry with the difficult ones.

I think I’m looking for something, searching for something, most likely within myself. It’s a feeling I can’t shake. I need to strive for something and focus my attention on attaining whatever this goal may be. Knowing this, I can try to figure it out little by little, as I finish this animated series one episode at a time.

Sunday, July 31, 2011, 2:15am — All that can be done is to breathe.

Some moments are tougher than others. I have had more difficult moments in the past month than I've had in my entire life. Sometimes these moments fade, other times they linger. The sole thing getting me through these most difficult of moments is my love for him, my love for my wonderful dad. He really is the best dad that life could have matched me with. I picture the little robots cycling through the infinite moms, dads, and children toy machine capsules and coming across our winning combination.

Life's lesson seems to be that it will get worse before it gets better. It may get way worse before it gets better, YEARS worse before it may get better. I will be challenging myself on top of the challenges and obstacles that will be waiting for me ahead.

All that can be done is to breathe, wholeheartedly, and focused, with no worries or regrets.