Thanks

I've been thinking about what I wrote the other day, the birthday letter to Alysia and the Unfinished Story. I spoke from my heart in both of those pieces, but they are only one side of my life. I feel, and have felt for many years, that I am among the most blessed of men, fathers and husbands. I did nothing exceptional that I know of to deserve this bounty, both material and not, but it follows me like an interested puppy.

Even after losing the kids, both my Love and I feel that we are luckier than we have any right to be. Financially stable, relationshiply stable, 2 loving kids, grandkids, family and friends, we are unbelievably grateful for the life we have. A lot goes on, weirdnesses abound, people are people even (and maybe especially) when you're related to them, but we sail on. I can work up some serious complaints from time to time, but they are really just mostly noise, with a good helping of butthurt.

So I want to take this father's day to thank my kids, my wife, my parents, my family and my friends. I have the life I have in part because of each of you. I learn and grow because of you. (Yes, even you, you lurker. Call me, we'll have coffee.) Yes, I get arrogant. Yes, I can be unbearable. But even at my worst, I do remember that I love you, and sometimes even like you, and that keeps me from becoming SO totally insufferable that you never speak to me again. (Which would be a shame: I have so much to tell you! :-))

So, to my kids, I thank you for trusting me to advise you and sometimes even guide you. More to the left, dammit! The other left!

To my beloved, thank you for putting up with my noise and nonsense, and for believing even more than I do that on this funny path we tread, it is better together.

To my parents, all 3 of you, thank you for demonstrating how not to. Seriously, parenting wasn't any of your strong suits. But your love always came through and now I know how difficult a difficult child can be, and I have lost my illusions that I was anything but a really tough kid to raise. I like to think I was worth it though, and since you're all gone, I get to keep my illusions opinions.

Brothers and sisters, thank you for being endlessly entertaining especially when that wasn't your intention. Thank you for reaching out to us when we were drowning. You have no idea how important you were and still are to us both.

Friends, both online and in person, thank you for being there. Sometimes I feel like I need to reach out to someone I'm not completely involved with, just because it is so much less drama. And the comments and letters mean a lot. Santa Monica girls, you are the awesome sauce of my life.

A special thank you from the bottom of my heart to my Other Daughter. Alysia's love shines through you to us, and I cannot think of what it would have been like to live these last 2 years without you and your strength. You lost your whole future in that moment, and have recovered while reaching out to help us. I cannot thank you enough. Know that I love you dearly.

What's next? We're heading off to NY, to the Adirondacks for few weeks. I have some thoughts about grief and grieving and about relationships I'd like to get down. We'll see what I can get to, between waterskiing, fishing, cooking, boating, jigsaw puzzles, Mexican Train, and assorted lazing around. (Quit bragging, Yogi.)

 

 

An Unfinished Story

Once there was a man, a child, born into a nice family, with nice people who, like people in many nice families, didn't always behave nicely. But things were pretty good until the young man's father died. All his mother would say was, "He was sick."

The man, being then as now a romantic to the core, decided that he would be the "man of the family" and although he was only 7, he set out to do this. But the other members of the family weren't so sure about having a little boy (as they called him, not unfairly) run the show. So they made fun of him, not un-nicely, and ignored him when he tried to run things. This made him mad, especially when he could see that he was right and they were wrong.

The mother, who was pretty as well as well-off, found herself wanting to get away from the confines of her home in the country-side and moved the family to the big city, where her head was turned by many suitors, but none so much as the young Italian man who looked at her as if she was the moon, sun and stars, and talked wildly of Art, and Passion, and Love. They were married, and the young man, who very much liked his new "father", sang at their wedding.

Alas, the Grand Love of the Mother and new Father burnt brightly but short and in only a few years, the young man's family was once again broken. The parents fought and made up, over and again for many years, until eventually they became great friends. The not-so-young man was grateful for this, as he loved them both, even as he thought them completely insane.

The not-so-young man grew into a man, and found Love for himself. Interestingly, his Love came with two children, both teens. And the man felt his love grow to encompass the two young men, as well as a grandchild that he and his Love adopted as their own, and eventually another adopted child. And through all the trials and tribulations of raising a family, he read a singular book to the children, younger and older alike. To his first adopted daughter, he would say, "I love you forever, I'll like you for always, As long as I'm living my baby you'll be." And then he would say, "No matter what. Period. End of story." And she would hug him and then do the most annoying things a child or a young girl could possibly do.

Now, sometimes the man wasn't nice, but mostly he was, and he would always tell her and himself, "I'll love you forever..." even when the words stuck in his craw after some particularly egregious behavior. Because he was and is a romantic to the bone, and he wanted his daughter to be able to boast that HER dad loved her in spite of her behavior. Which he did and so did she.

So, the man read the story to all his children, and promised them to love them forever. And he did, even when the oldest boy was sent to jail, even when his heart felt torn between wanting to hug the children or beat them, even when the eldest daughter said unspeakable things and wreaked havoc on the family. Eventually things got better, and wounds healed and the father and the daughter and the son and the Parents all were very happy and nice and sometimes thoughtful and sometimes crazy but things were better for a year.

One freaking year. If you'll excuse the plagiarism, 525,600 minutes, more or less, maybe 16 months total. And on New Year's Eve, the man and his Love got the phone call no parent ever wants to hear. And they buried the older son, and the Love's light dimmed, like a sun behind a cloud. And the man tried to understand and be a loving father and partner and care for the rest of the family, in particular the eldest daughter who was the child of the oldest son, who he and his Love had adopted, who had wanted to reconcile with her biological father, but hadn't quite. And after two years, his Love's light began to brighten once more and he basked again in the warmth.

As his Love's light shone again, his relationships with his surviving children did too. His son, eldest daughter and younger daughter all loved and cared for each other, and help each other through more trials, but few tribulations. And the eldest daughter found a deep love and the son adopted a half-brother of the eldest daughter (are you keeping track? There will be a quiz soon) and the man and his Love were very happy. And the Parents were there for some birthdays, and sent cards for others and in general all was good.

As the eldest daughter's partner was graduating, a party was held and the daughter and her partner went to the party and beautiful pictures were taken and sent and the man saw his daughter's picture from 5 minutes before the party, and the daughter promised to call when it was over. But many drinks were had, too many, and harsh words were exchanged and feelings were hurt, and eventually eldest daughter was tucked back into her bed by friends of the partner.

But the hurt had struck the eldest daughter deep, and she feared losing her beloved partner, and so she found her car and drove to find her partner and she lost control and the man and his wife were woken at 3 AM by the sheriff's deputy and the nightmare began again.

And this time the man understood deep in his bones what he had not understood before: that the loss of a child who you have nurtured is like tearing the skin from your heart.

And at the memorial, he said to his daughter, "I'll love you forever, I'll like you for always, As long as I'm living, my baby you'll be." And he wept.

And the Parents saw the man's anguish and came to his side and tried to comfort him and generally acted better than they ever had, and the man found comfort in his deeper relationships with the Parents. And some wounds were healed and fences mended and the Parents and the man and his Love and their son and daughter pressed on, though more trials  and tribulations lay ahead.

And even when the Parents died and more family, and things were just the shits, the man and his Love said to their children (and to each other), "I'll love you forever..." even though sometimes they couldn't say the words aloud.

And the story ends (or doesn't, really) here. But when my Love or my children read this, they will know:

"I'll love you forever, I'll like you for always, As long as I'm living, my babies you'll be."

Because I"m still the romantic who said, when he was just seven years old, "I'll take care of you. Don't worry." And I still mean it.

Happy 23rd Birthday, Alysia

I'll love you forever, I'll love you for always, as long as I'm living my baby you'll be.

Happy Birthday, Alysia