Tina Rowley

writer + (performer) + [space left open for surprises]


Sharp change in tone for the blog here for a moment. I don't know how much to write about this, but I need to write something. Please bear with me for a minute. This will be oblique, and it's mostly for my own benefit. This is my small mountaintop that I can shout from*. And if I don't do a little shouting, I'm going to sit here curdling in something. No, thank you.

*Yes, the participle dangled. I'd love to stop caring about that. That rule should go. I am tired of it.

I found out some things today about two family members who are no longer living, who are a couple of generations removed. I'm not going to name names or be specific about what I found out, because relatives may read this and it would be unfair. But what I found out made me sick, it made me angry, and because they're dead and there's no way I can confront them, it made me feel helpless.

What do you do when you suddenly find yourself angry at someone who has died? What do you do?

I can't say what they did, but I have to, so here's how I'm going to do it.

The first person, a male, did this: XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
The second person, a female, did this: She stood by and watched something, and didn't intervene.

Again, I'm sorry this is so vague. It has to be that way.

I'm glad I learned what I did because it's the truth, and the truth is illuminating. I'm angry that I have this knowledge because it's ugly and I don't want to hold it. I want these people who have died to hold it.

I took Dave to the chiropractor today, and when we were driving home it was late afternoon. The cloud formations were strange and stunning in that sunset light. There was a row of clouds over the freeway that looked like mournful orange faces poking out of the heavens, and I wanted those faces to be there for what I found out today. I wanted those to be the remorseful faces of my ancestors, or the grave faces of disapproving gods.

The clouds in the picture are someone else's. I didn't take a picture of my clouds from today. It's just as well. Those faces wouldn't have translated, just like you can't take a picture of ghosts.