is loneliness hereditary?

another day has come to an end.  another day with not much accomplished.  read a few emails.  make a few calls.  eat lunch.  eat dinner.  spend money and drink coffee.  darkness arrives.  hot tub then vino.  in between the nothingness there was a hike with Triggy and then another hike alone.  a drive to the city to pick up some boots for Rylee and then a drive back home.  fill up the car with gas and then drink a Timmies coffee.  another day closer to death or closer to the age when you might as well be dead.  is there anyone out there who can help the old man who wants to do something with his life but can no longer move?   no longer speak?  age and time constantly moving.  moving quicker and quicker as life gets sadder and sadder.  the world becoming bigger but less love and less connection.  witnessing my Mom getting older and older while getting lonelier and lonelier.  life becoming scarier and scarier.  wanting more love.  needing more love.  riddled with anxiety that surfaces randomly and riddled with anger that also surfaces randomly.  otherwise I am a happy guy living a happy life that is passing me by much too quickly and yet I feel that I am swimming in quicksand while my brain is on a roller-coaster.  one grey hair has become forty grey hairs.  the balding I could take.  the grey hairs are much harder to accept.  feeling like I am twenty-five but looking like I am eighty-five.  girls no longer finding me attractive.  guys no longer threatened by me.  my daughter sometimes not even looking up to me.  the race to make something out of my life consumes me but my mind is shattered.  cluttered.  so is my heart.  I miss my Dad more and more and still wonder why he died so long ago.  I also wonder why my Mom never re-married.  I wonder what goes on in her head.  does she worry about dying?  does she miss my Dad?  does she miss my brother and I?  is she lonely?  is she sad?  does she want a big hug or does she want her husband back?  is loneliness hereditary?  good friends are dying while little kids are getting berated by their amateur basketball coach.  dull people everywhere on a treadmill that spins and spins but goes nowhere.  taxes.  mortgages.  bad jobs.  failed relationships and BOOM you look in the mirror and you are fifty.  more wrinkles.  more aches.  more pains.  daughter was once one but now she is ten.  “where did the ten years go?”  “has anything changed?”  on medications.  off medications.  major confidence.  no confidence.  healthy.  unhealthy.  exercise.  no exercise.  art.  no art.  up down and all around and always back to the computer with a bottle of wine and nothing else…except a sore back.
hug someone.  kiss someone.  why coach basketball if you are not passionate about basketball nor passionate about kids?  why is there so much hate in this world?  I love human beings regardless of their race or gender.  Governments fucking up life but we continue to support them.  revere them.  useless peasants with suits preaching hate and violence but smiling with fake white teeth while they preach.  FUCK THEM!!!
another day closer to death.  sitting in an uncomfortable chair in an uncomfortable house.  wanting my chair and my house back.  want to be in Europe.  want to be in Vancouver.  want to be in New York City but also want to be in Hockley or on a remote piece of land in the middle of nowhere overlooking a beautiful lake.  love people but also despise people but still feel we should all connect more.  all love more.  all listen more.  I wish we had less rules and more laughter.  more tears but also more smiles.  fuck the shitty television shows but also fuck the shitty music.  do not be a walking zombie on your short time on earth.  make something of your life.  find your passion.  find your purpose.  my back is sore from this shitty chair but instead of complaining I should move…but I stay.  typical man in a typical world.
looking back on life and feeling pain.  feeling sadness.  standing outside my Auntie Marion’s and Uncle Mac’s house in Unionville waiting for them to open the door on one cold Saturday morning in February.  Mrs. Vine behind me.  my brother beside me.  door opens and we walk in.  ten people in a small room all crying.  seeing my Mom bawling in her blue and white housecoat.  sitting on the blue reclining chair.  “LIFE WOULD NEVER BE THE SAME.”  “Your Dad never made it Chris.  He’s gone to a better place.”  CRYING and CRYING and CRYING and CRYING…never ends until life ends.  one friend dies then another is born.  then one friend dies and then another one is born.  many friends dying too early.  too nice.  need a purpose.  need a conviction.  NEED HELP but doctor’s never helping.  almost forty years of psychotherapy but just as fucked up as forty years ago.  acceptance?  forgiveness?  my back hurts while sitting on this shitty chair.  “NO MAS.”
lost.  love.  sad.  happy.  touch.  feel.  smile.  cry.  hug.  love.  hate.  kill.  why?  die?  life.
I need more human connection and less toys.  more dinners with friends and less political bullshitters.
I LOVE EVERYONE AND WANT TO BE LOVED BY EVERYONE.
I miss you Dad.  I miss you Mom.