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Big Fat Blog

2001-08-13 - 10:02 p.m.�
Festival inspired revelations

I had a really good time in Hamilton at the festival this weekend. I'm tired, a little sunburnt, but feeling good for having been there. Alot of people I know up here don't understand why I love Hamilton, but to me, a big part of why I love that city is simply sitting under a tree in Gage Park listing to music. The Festival of Friends is Hamilton to me. I've gone to this festival almost every year since I was born, and it's always been a highlight of the summer for me.

I missed the past two festivals before this one, and each year when the weekend rolled around, I wished I had found a way to get back there. The first summer I couldn't go because I really couldn't afford too. I was one month into a job, and before that I had been without work for 3 months or so. And, I had already earmarked quite a bit of money for the trek to see Lilith Fair in Toronto.

Last summer I didn't go because I didn't have anywhere to stay, and I couldn't afford a hotel. That was my excuse to myself, anyway.

Both summers if I had really had the drive, I could have scrounged together enough money and found myself somewhere to stay. At that point I still had friends living in the city (they've all graduated University and moved on now). The real reason I didn't go was because I didn't want to run into someone that I was knew I had a good chance of seeing there:

My father.

The Festival of Friends was always a highlight of the summer for my dad too. Love of live music, especially blues and folk music, was something that I could share with not only my mom, but my dad too. The festival was something we could enjoy together. When I think of my happy memories of the weekends spent in the park over the years, my father is inevitably part of that picture. Of all the times in my life that I have been mad at him, or wished he didn't exist, I don't think I ever once felt that way at the festival.

I didn't see him this weekend. It was overwhelmingly a relief. I stayed away from the festival the past two years because I didn't want to run in to him. I didn't want a scene, not there of all places. If I have a happy place, that is definitely it. I didn't want to feel uncomfortable there.

At the same time, I decided that I didn't want him to keep me away.

But, as I said, I didn't see him. That leads me to conclude that either he has left town, or he still hasn't pulled himself off of skid row enough to even attend. I don't know which possibility to root for.

What I do know is that as relieved as I was that I didn't see he there, at the same time I felt a little sad for him. That was his festival as much as it is mine. He loves it as much as I do, has as much right to be there.

I do wonder about him sometimes. It's been over 2 years since I've spoken to him, and almost a year since we last heard anything from him. I don't think I hate him anymore. I haven't really forgiven him, but I don't really wish him ill anymore.

That's almost a strange thing for me to say. I feel like it's an admission, a confession of something I shouldn't feel. I thought I would hate him forever. I am still living the aftermath of his irresponsibility. I'm still doing cleanup. My family will be living in the financial aftermath for years to come (especially Tom). But I am also moving on, and so are my mom and my brother. I'm doing okay for myself these days. And mom's got a new job that is going even better than planned. Tom is doing pretty well too. I don't know that I could ever see myself feeling like I could reconcile, but this weekend I did have the revelation that I, in fact, no longer hate my father.

And with that, I believe that is quite enough of the rambling revelations for today. I believe it's time for bed.

yesterday tomorrow

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