Day: August 18, 2022

I’ve been a little blue the past few days. I’m not sure why that is.

On the other hand God knows there’s a lot that I could be blue about. Almost all the news is bad. I find myself waiting for the next new atrocity to come out of some country or our own government.

Yesterday was particularly tough. I wasn’t sure why, but the day seemed just harder than usual. To be fair, the day started out with a glorious sunrise. The smell of fresh brewed coffee wafted from the kitchen. The dog sniffing my face asking, “Are you awake yet?”

I scanned the headlines, pausing to read one of the many articles about the new preponderance of IRS agents. I smiled thinking about my Dad he’d be having a shit fit about it.

Dad really didn’t like the IRS, and apparently the feeling was mutual.

Then it hit me. It was the 30th anniversary of my Dad’s death.

Whoa! I thought I was doing the math wrong. I wasn’t.

I hadn’t really been paying attention to the number of years that had passed, but I wonder if some part of me was acknowledging the anniversary without bringing it to my conscious mind.

30 years ago, by this date it had been a rough couple of months. Little did I know at the time, but things were going to get a lot rougher before some semblance of “normal” would return.

In that moment 30 years ago, I had only what was immediately in front of me. A family that I barely knew telling me how they thought I should do things.

My younger Brother, (who was old enough to carry a gun in the DMZ in Korea and later Desert Storm, but couldn’t buy a beer,) who I was trying to protect at least from the most egregious of the “Helpful” suggestions? Commands? Demands?

My Dad had been through some rough times in the last few years of his life, he was trying to stand up a business doing something that he seemed to love. He’d left the state he grew up in, and moved in with his mother in her home state. I think his plan was to jump start the business and then purchase his own home in a, sort of charming, small town in The South.

I don’t know. He never shared his plans with me. I can say that Dad had reduced his possessions considerably and become a minimalist. Whether that was due to financial need or life choice I also don’t know.

Somewhere along the line, he’d discovered he had cancer and it was too far along for any effective treatment. Perhaps that was part of the drive toward minimalism on his part.

When he died, as the eldest Son, the responsibility for all the “after life” decisions fell to me.

My Brother had been raised by my Dad more so than I. It only seemed right that he should be calling the shots so I gave my Brother as much control as he wanted. I took on the things that were “too much,” given the circumstances, and the role of running interference with the family.

I’d like to think that Dad would have appreciated the arrangement. Especially when he understood my reasoning.

All of this flooded back crashing into my brain. Suddenly, I was reliving it in a way.

I felt terribly alone.

Many times over the past 30 years I’ve wished Dad was around. I’ve wished that I could chat with him, discuss politics, have a drink, go shooting, or get his take on trouble spots in my life. I’d have appreciated his wisdom even if I went my own way. While I wouldn’t have appreciated his knowing grin when going my own way blew up in my face, I’d like to have had the experience.

I suppose I could use a bit of a pep talk from Dad. Over the past 5 years or so, I’ve felt like I’m being kicked and beaten, then kicked again while I’m already on the ground. I’m having a very hard time getting up and wonder, “why bother” often enough that it worries me.

I’m losing the game, and have no more plays. I’m out of clever tricks. Why not just take my ball and go home?

I could really stand to hear, “Son, you’re alright. Rub some dirt on it, walk it off! Get up off your ass, FIGHT! Tear the fucker’s throat out. I’ve got your back.”

Encouragement like that would be welcome right about now, just as it was when I was a boy.

Yeah, I’m 60+ but my Dad is still my Dad, and I’m still his Son.

Hmmm… Okay Old Man… Message received. I’m getting up off my ass, give me a minute.

I miss you Dad…