I hate these days

These days are the worst days.

I hate these days.

These days bring so much sadness.

These days bring tears to my eyes.

Every one of these days.

This morning I drove to LAX and dropped off my son, not to see him again for months. I really thought that I could do it without crying this time. I reminded myself that I will be able to see him in less than three months… It didn’t work.


I remember the day that Jennifer left for her summer mission trip eight years ago. I was so proud of her, so glad that she was doing such a good thing. I cried the entire 45 minute drive to work. Every time we put her on the plane to go back to college I would tear up. Separation brings me so many tears.

The drop offs with Dillon are much tougher. I think a good part of it is because it was our move back to California is what caused the distance between us. But, I think that the hardest part, the greatest contributor to what aches my heart today, is has a lot to do with losing my dad when I was eighteen. As an adult I never had a father-son relationship with my dad. And, as I told God this morning, I didn’t get that part of the relationship with my dad and I want it with my son.

So, the separation hurts.

And now I am back in Brea, with three of the four most important people in the world to me, all within a mile or so from me.

Back to our routine.

Routine, except that I hate these days.

December 14th is always a tough day.

The fog was pretty heavy this morning as I drove Alyssa up to school. I could see about 200 yards down the road, and maybe less than 100 yards up near the high school. My memories of of December 1982 are sometimes like trying to look through the morning fog. That was a rough time in my life; my dad had cancer and was dying.

At that point in my life I was living in survival mode, trying to be strong. I was wearing on the best mask that I could conceive - confident, unaffected, positive. I had been using that coping mechanism since childhood, so I went with what I knew. I think that part of my struggles in remembering that time in my life is in part all of the positive self-talk I was engaging in (when you are eighteen you can think that nothing is going to affect you). Nonetheless, there are parts of that month that are crystal clear in my memory, like they happen last year, or last month.

I can remember my Aunt Nancy calling me, saying that I needed to come home. I remember his hospital room. I remember seeing him lying in his bed, and the tear running down his cheek as he tried to speak to me. I remember answering the phone when the doctor called to tell us he was gone. I remember hearing my Gramps breaking down when Cindy had to call him to tell him the awful news.

I have never stopped missing him. Its been more than 28 years since that day I last spoke to him, touched his hand,  kissed his forehead, and told him that I loved him... There are times that the loss doesn't hurt as much. There are days that pass when I don't think about him even once. But, there are days that I miss him dearly. Today is one of those days.

We never got to experience the best things that a man and his son can share together. He couldn't come to my wedding. I was never able to introduce him to his wonderful grandchildren. He never got to hold them. He never got to see Jennifer sing, or come to one of Dillon's games, or watch Alyssa march with the Blue Devils. He missed out on so much.

I miss my dad. I still wish that he was here. I wish that I could share with him the things that are happening in my life. So much has happened, things that he would have loved. Today is a hard day for me. I lost my dad twenty eight years ago today. I feel cheated. And it still hurts.


On this morning the fog and overcast skies seem quite apropos.

Celebrate... right?

It has been three months since I have posted anything on this blog. Three months... I remember when I started this blog last January I said something like “If you find me blogging for more than three consecutive days, pray for me to get more work.” How funny is that!

So, the question is: Why haven't I been here for 90 days? Have I been in a coma? Did I lose my computer? Has nothing significant occurred since Jenn & Andy's wedding? No. No. No. And no. I don't think that I've lost interest either... I'm really not sure...
So, what is happening now? Well, I am nearly finished with my Human Development degree from Hope! I will graduate in two weeks. This should be exciting. Really, it should. For some reason it isn't. I mean, it's like this – just last week I was considering whether or not I should even show up for graduation. Maybe it is that I have a two year masters program beginning in January that is preoccupying my mind.... I don't know.
 
Nevertheless, whatever the reason is, I really do need to celebrate my achievement. Therefore, I think I will change my mindset about graduating on the 18th. Since I have a tendency not to get too excited about things (except some sports) the process of celebrating the occasion might be therapeutic for me.
 
So, to help me out I'm looking for ideas and suggestions on how to celebrate such an occasion (a 46 year old earning his bachelor's degree). Thanks :)