Ron-Bob

You taught me to trust no one. No one will stay. No one live up to that title. I guess that's fair. We're 0/9 now, aren't we? I guess what you taught me was fair. I don't look at them as people to get used to. People to talk to. People to cherish for the time being. Rather, I look at them as a stray cat looks at an abandoned piece of grilled salmon. There are good experiences, good feelings and emotions, that come with it. The growling stomach subsides. The rib bones stick out a little less. The fat content is regained a bit more. But, in the end, the salmon is reduced to bones that have no use to me anymore. It is discarded. Sounds a bit familiar, huh?

To be clear, I recall little about you. Just a few experiences where you were my uncle, and I was your niece. You were never going to marry my aunt or be there for my cousin more than a bus ticket to see your mother or to visit you and your new wife in your new life down in Atlanta. Still, I think back to you when I see him. Bob is very red. Bob is very small. I loved Bob most of all. I couldn't tell you what happened to Bob. He's another fallen toy in another broken memory of another hazy time. Just like you. Only, I loved Bob. I can't say the same for you. I can remember Bob's face. I can't say the same for you. I can remember crying when I lost Bob. I can't say the same for you.

To say I have "Daddy issues" would be moronic, especially since I know where he is. I can go downstairs and point to him. Can my cousin say the same for you? Can he say he knows where you are? Can he go downstairs and point to you? Didn't think so, but this is supposed to be a positive thing. I guess I'll have to write one for the guy after you since I've done the one after him too. Twice. Guess he's a favorite. The favorite of the men who have created a slight rip in psyche that I don't understand. Like I said, you aren't my dad (something your son says a lot too, but I digress) so why does my brain associate you to the feelings of those kids living without a father (or hell, even a mother)? Anger. Hatred. Fear. I can't pinpoint when or why they emerged. Maybe after my first break up or around the time of my first period. I don't even know why I am trying to turn you into a positive thing, when you clearly aren't worth the time, effort, or space in my brain.

The only positive thing that came out of this relationship was Bob. To the other kids who own him, he was just a toy. Just a little keychain that looked cute in family photos. A trinket that was fun to duck on, but not fun to chew because (if I remember him correctly) he was made of a hard red plastic that clinked when you banged your teeth on it. Not very fun at all. But for me, he wasn't just a think because he is the one think I can associate you with. You were my Ron Bob. You always pointed him out. Always said I looked like a Bob. My other aunts' boyfriends didn't do that. Of course, there are some positives with them two (normally the leaving part but there's others in between). From what I know, you didn't hit her. Or maybe you did and we were all too small to remember. Seems like something you don't forget though, but hell, who knows? God willing, my offspring will never know that horror but that is another angry rant at another stupid man who came in my life, kicked some shit over, and was kicked out. Again, I'm supposed to be positive.

The point is, I couldn't tell you when I lost Bob just like I couldn't tell you when you left. I couldn't tell you where Bob is now, just like I couldn't tell you where you are now. I couldn't tell you what emotion Bob left deep inside of me, just like I couldn't begin to describe the emotions you leaving made me feel. It's like looking at a photo album and seeing something you remember but not knowing why. That's exactly the feeling actually. I will the see the pictures of me, two or three then, with Bob clipped onto my overall strap, or hanging from my pocket, or even dangling between my teeth, and I will wonder if you were there. Back when I couldn't pinpoint whether things were happy or sad because I was too busy being a kid and growing up to deal with everyone else's emotions. But now, I'm damn near grown and supposedly you are sending me money for college. I don't know why. As previously stated, you were never going to settle down with my aunt. I was never your niece, though for a moment, I was, though I don't remember it. So, while your money will happily be deposited into my bank account, I cannot say I know the meaning of it. Where exactly it is coming from (whether your heart or your conscience or your memory) I neither know nor care about. I think we should leave it that way.

The positive things you taught me was that everything is like a toy. The theoretical intended purpose is to be loved and taken care of when the actual purpose is to make money of of stupid children's love for trivial things. Turns out, I'm not cut out for business like that. I'm too emotional. I get too attached to those trivial feelings of want, desire, and love. I can't deal with losing things very well. Which is a long way of saying, you taught me that all of the people my aunt brings around will leave. Which wasn't bad advice because so far that has been consistent. So thanks for being a deadbeat Ron-Bob. I appreciate it.