Happy Memorial Day

Three day weekends are always the best. My mother got out of the hospital this most recent Wednesday, and so I've been spending this weekend hanging around with her and helping her get use to the lifestyle that comes with a loss of limb. She's been staying with me and will probably stay longer than planned, which I kind of expected.

Recently, a lot of discussion in my life has revolved around the military. I find it a bit ironic with Memorial Day being right around the corner. My family is actually a big military family, and so the day means more to my family than most. My dad and granddad were Air Force, my grandpa and one uncle were Army, and another uncle was navy. Both my male cousins also joined the military, though I'm not sure what branch they were.

In fact, I'm the only male in my family that didn't join the military, effectively cutting the streak that my relatives had been setting. I'm actually grateful that both my granddad and grandpa had already died by the time I was old enough to join the military, otherwise I assume I would be a disappointment to them. Sometimes I wish I had joined the military, I still could since I'm only twenty-four, but I don't like following another persons orders and that's basically all the military is. I feel like it would have given me some discipline though, something I lack desperately.

You would think that being such a military based family that I would have had a strenuous childhood, but my father was a pansy throughout my childhood, and still is for the most part. I was born the second child, and first and only son. By the time I was cognitive as a child most of my relatives were old or fat or both, and so they really weren't able to do much with me. My cousins were far too old to be playing with me, and so I always hated the family reunions or get together, as there was never anyone my age.

I'd say that would be the reasoning behind why I never joined the military, nor am I big on family. The lack of involvement from these supposed role models never gave me cause to follow in their footsteps, and the women they married left an even worse taste in my mouth for starting a family.

When I was young, I wanted the American dream, like most of my generation. It was instilled in me by TV shows and hearsay from my relatives. But as I work an eight to five job, live in a house that needs repairs, and spend little time displaying myself to attract a mate, I find myself no longer believing that the American dream was ever a thing those old veteran relatives even had. They built a life for their family, and then they got fat, old, and then died. In my dads case, my parents are divorced and my father lives with his mom, he will die alone.

I tend to think a lot about what has happened in my families lives, knowing how they act and feel, I wonder if I've made the correct choices. Will I die alone? Will I find my happiness? Am I ever going to be worthy? These are questions normal people ask themselves. These are questions that I should be asking myself, but I don't, and that worries me.

~TheTimeSword