I still frequently have dreams that involve problems getting home.  They will involve situations where I parked in a parking lot but forgot to pay and my car was towed, parked in a tow-away zone and my car was towed, used mass transit but no bus was coming for a long time that goes anywhere near my home, went to take a train but no train goes in the direction of my home, walk for miles and miles and the territory is unfamiliar or difficult or risky to cross, so can’t get home.

     After my father left, the house where I grew up didn’t feel like home any more.  No place I’ve lived since really felt like home, even here where I’ve been for 31 years, save for the 2-1/2 years I spent in prison, doesn’t feel like home.  My mother expressed a similar sentiment once when I was a kid, so I guess my journey is not unique in that sense.

     I’m not sure exactly what home even represents.  Perhaps a sense of security I will never have as long as I’m alive in corporeal form.  I just know there is a sense of longing that won’t go away.

     There was a brief period where this did feel like home, when all my children were here, when my family felt complete.  After Carl left home that feeling left with him and has never returned.  And through my own actions I’ve estranged two of my children from me.  That is not easy to live with.

     When John Belushi died, I noticed the look on Robin Williams face changed, and no matter how comic the role he played, I could always see sadness in his face, like he never got over mourning that loss, and sometimes I wonder if he wasn’t at least in part responsible for his death, did he supply the drugs, but I’ll never know.

     What I do know is now it’s something I can identify with.  My mother is gone, two years now, and I can’t get over that.  My father’s health is not good, I don’t know how much longer he will be in this world.  When my daughter left I cried, and she asked why, and I told her because I didn’t think I would see her again in this life, and I told her about a customer who said he hadn’t seen his daughters in six years, and she told me she would never do that to me, but I knew she would because of what I’ve done to her.  My fault I know, self-fulfilled prophesy.  Doesn’t make it any easier to live with.

     I think the only thing that will ever feel like home is returning to God in my death, but God has made it clear that I’ve got a lot on my plate yet between now and then, so I guess I’m doomed to live with this feeling for a long time.