My dad loves video games.
He played Ghostbusters back in the day. I loved the game, and the movies, and the logo. He played Pac Man too, another game where you hunt ghosts. My mother believed in ghosts. Her and my sister see them. I believe in ghosts too.
My dad used to reminisce a lot. My mother always laughed at him for it. He grew older, his friends started to pass away; my mother did too. He reminisced less but began to talk about his childhood with pride that he loved and was loved by these people. There’s been less longing and more contentment. He speaks of my mother in the same way. He misses her like we all do, but he’s so thankful that she existed on the same plane as him, that all he does is praise her and appreciate that the good times even happened. I hope he knows I’m here for him whenever the inner peace he speaks with gives way to grief.
I’m a long way from watching my father play video games. I grew up from a peanut head little boy who had his mother’s cheekbones and smile, and became an adult, who now looks like my father if he stepped in a time machine. I’m like him in a lot of ways, but I didn’t reminisce a lot because I foolishly thought I was above it. This led to me just longing for the past whenever times got tough. Then when things got better, the “good ol days” would never cross my mind. I’ve let myself be intoxicated by what could’ve been for too, even as my fantasies sanitize what was actually happening at the time.
I never had to flee my :living ghosts.” They were too cowardly to show their faces; they only stuck around in my mind’s eye. The relationships that ended with me being mistreated, the friends who abandoned me at my lowest moments, apologies I’m owed and will never get….I never saw them again. Until now.
From January 2025 on, something changed. I got a call from someone I was very close to a decade ago, who stopped talking to me, because our mutual friend (and my best friend) cut me off after I dumped my ex.My best friend never met this ex, so his blind loyalty was very strange, considering I was the one who was wronged. That entire circle, knew that I was really depressed, that my breakup was fucked up, that my job search was worse; they chose to leave me because one person told them to. We got on the phone, we spoke, we still speak occasionally now, but it was strange and it will always be strange. I didn’t deserve that shit, and while he did apologize, I couldn’t help but wonder where that was when I truly needed it.
That same ex that led to that friend group collapse came out of the shadows in March 2025. Up until then, we hadn’t spoken for, you guessed it, a decade. We were back to being adversarial in less than a week, because people don’t change as drastically as they’d like you to believe. I tried to be cool about it, that didn’t work, because I never should have been. My mom laughed at me because of how preodctable it all was. I’m much smarter than the decisions I make, sometimes.
Another ex hit me up after my mother died. It almost feels like in the months leading up to (and after) my mother’s passing, everyone I was on uncertain terms with revealed themselves. Me and this ex didnt meet up, but it was fine, then it got weird, because of course it did. She is still friends with that same best friend who cut me off 10 years ago. I will never forgive him. When she said something to me to the effect of “knowing both sides” of our issue, when I always knew there was no other side, and had it confirmed to me that there wasn’t…I realized this person is not really in my corner. There’s no reason for us to speak. I should have accepted the condolences, and called it a life.
There was a woman who I dated, really liked, then got dumped by because I didn’t want to commit six months after a breakup. She randomly popped up last spring after 9 years, looked around, then disappeared. She did it again a few weeks ago. Our convos are fine, we plan to meet, it doesn’t happen. That has obviously, done wonders for my psyche and abandonment issues that surfaced after my mother died. I finally decided to never speak to this woman again, a choice I shouldve made a year ago. I’ve often said to myself, “Wait until I love myself again!” when I allowed romantic situations that I knew were beneath me to unfold. Last week? I said “Why don’t you start now?” and it has ended a lot of bullshit. I’ve been through some emotionally traumatic shit, but I’m done destroying myself.
I went to a Labor Day Parade afterparty this year, after I lied to myself, the universe and my mother’s spirit and said I wasn’t even going out that day. I got in line and saw a girl walking to a food cart feet away for me. I didn’t even see her full face and knew it was her. We ended on not great terms because I decided to not go past us flirting at a block party in Brooklyn, despite us knowing each other for almost a decade (its always 10 years) and losing touch. I didn’t wanna get into an argument, so my goofy ass, dressed like a Trinidadian and St. Vincentian superhero, was spinning like a gyro machine so she couldn’t see me on line.
I narrowly escaped that, then went inside and later saw another woman that I went to middle school with, developed a huge crush on as an adult, then drifted apart from in my mid-20s because she was unsure about me, when I was very sure about her. I haven’t seen her since I was probably 26 years old (I’m 38, which means I’m spiritually 40), and so much time has passed that the friends I was with have never heard me talk about her. She looked great. We told each other we looked good but it’s up to you to decide who’s was more charged. I was absolutely flirting because why wouldn’t I? Life’s too short. We went our separate ways and us crossing paths was on my mind for the rest of the week.” The last two years have felt like all of my ghosts are back.
I feel haunted by everything, actually. I’m haunted by the desire to be happier like I was in my 20s, by wishing I could feel the way I felt when my mother was alive and well, by these women that somewhere deep down I couldn’t fully let go of. I keep telling myself I’m going to free myself of all of my emotional baggage, but I haven’t done a great job. I’ve partially freed myself of all of everything I’ve alread mentioned in this piece, but I feel stuck, I know all of this is tying me down and sapping my energy.
No longer dwelling on things that end well for me, makes me afraid that I’ll forget the good times, too. That’s exactly how I felt when I stopped being miserable all the time about my mother’s death; I felt embarrassed, as if my mourning taking on a much more manageable and less heavy shape meant I was turning my mother into an afterthought. In reality, I could never forget my mother, who loved me until her last breath. I could never forget the women I loved, even when that passion I felt became detrimental to me. I could never forget the friendships I cherished, until those same friends decided they didn’t matter. I’ve always viewed these things as if there is something more I need to learn from them. Tonight, I realize, the final lesson is to free myself of times passed and appreciate the memories, instead of yearning for how it used to be.
