Saying Goodbye.....

I just got back from seeing The Wrestler. It was a really good movie. Makes you think. But isn't that what a movie is suppose to do? Some. Some are just pure entertainment. Some are there to laugh at. Some to marvel at. This one made me think. Think about life in general. Why is it that some people can't let go of the past? They hold on to things that have no real purpose anymore. Like...80's music. Just kidding. The movies soundtrack was full of it. No, things like a being the most popular in school. Or not being the most popular in school. School is over. So is that. But some people never get over that whole "high school" mentality. Wanting to be popular. Just be yourself. This movie was about a guy who could not give up his popularity. It was pathetically sad. There is a scene where he goes to an autograph session with others like him. Guys still trying to hold onto that thin thread to their past. Here is the main character sitting there in pain, and another guy is sitting there with a piss bag poking out from under his pant leg. No one needed to say a word in that scene. Just looking at them spoke volumes. But they just could not say goodbye to it. Sad indeed.
Another thing about the movie that made me think was the relationship, or lack of relationship he had with his daughter. He was not a father to her when she was growing up, and still could not be there when she was grown. Today a friend is saying goodbye to her father. Last year another friend said goodbye to hers. I said goodbye to mine long ago. Don't get me wrong here, the man is still alive, but my "father" is gone. He left years ago. Left to live a life that I wouldn't want to be any part of now. I tried, we all tried, but the man just did not want to have anything to do with us. We think it had something to do with how we all made him feel old. God forbid the man should **gasp** age. He did not want to be a grandfather. He was too young for that. So he went out and bought a candy apple red Corvette. Started wearing western attire and cowboy boots. Started doing drugs. It was pathetic. He was living the life of fast cars and fast women. Got a couple of them pregnant. Married a couple of them. Divorced all of them. And then took off with his tail between his legs. Do I care if I ever hear from him again? Nope. The man who shares my fathers name is not my dad. My dad was the man who let me swing on his bicep muscle when I was 5. My dad was the man who drove the pop truck that we could hear all the way down the road when he would come home for lunch, open it up and let us grab a bottle of pop right out it. My dad was the man who could whistle so loud that we could hear it almost a mile away, knowing it was time to come home for dinner.
I miss that man.
That man has been gone for years.
I said goodbye to that man, my father, years ago.
I miss that man.
But I don't want to know the man he is now.......