The Stranger

Yesterday we had a great trip to Longwood Gardens. I loved seeing the kids play, walking with the sort of nature that can't be seen among the confines of New Jersey in winter (or at any other time as the case may be). At some point in the day, I realized that I am but a stranger among family, that I am in this group but an outsider accepted as one with an insider. It is unusual for me to feel this way (I think), but that is because mostly I have no desire to be a part of something collective. Yet I realized in that very instance that I had fallen for the idea of being part of something that I am not truly part of.

I am part of this group because of the bond I have with my wife, an insider. That bond is like the nail in the frame of a house. The frame is sturdy and strong as long as the nail holds, but should that nail fail the frame will as well. Therefore, I am only as good as that bond, only accepted as that bond is accepted, and only one with the group as long as the nail holds.

This wedding is a great example of this. It appears the only parts of the group not included are those who only share a nail. I understand it to be as it is, and perhaps this wedding is what shed light on this for me, for I am nothing but the mechanism that helps pay for our share of the fun. Yet it is proof to me that I will sit with my daughter, the other strip of wood endeared to the group by this nail. We will sit alone and watch the members of the clan participate while us outsiders in DNA learn our place. I will watch my son and other daughter participate while they too learn the place their father and sister reside.

I know, this is all reactionary. Perhaps in a normal world my sister would have everyone but you involved in a life changing experience. Perhaps in that circumstance you would feel happy to not have a place in it all, not separated for cause from the frame, not part of pictures, of memories, of just the inclusion in such joy. No, you only got the bill, and you would be fine with it.

Or perhaps you would take joy in being the only one left in the waiting room while the rest of the group was present at birth. The best part was the only thing you got out of it was a bill and the constant discussions of how great it was.

Ordinarily, in my own little world, I would not care. I think what is bothering me the most is that I do care. At some point in my life something changed and it is causing in me a sadness I would never have expected from within me. I feel like a little boy who is the only one not invited to a party all those he love are having fun with. I can't seem to find the rage to defeat this sadness. I have tried the insult angle, yet there was not enough anger to support it. It is pure sadness, and I have to defeat it. I just haven't figured out how yet.

And no, I have no desire to be involved at all out of charity. I need nothing from no one, and would rather starve than take food handed to me out of sorrow in my condition. I will sit proudly with my daughter and hopefully, at that point, feel fine that I need not be a part of this hopefully without having to say bluntly, albeit to myself, "fuck it all".