The wind almost pushed me back as I took a step around the corner on my walk this evening. Wind gusts were close to 30 miles an hour. Other parts of my walk were nice. The clouds were a mix of puffy white dollops and angry gray streaks. I was enjoying my walk.
And just like that I was crying.
Earlier today I wrote an autobiographical poem for day 16 of the April Poem a Day challenge. It dealt with the time my biological mom moved us to Albuquerque. So, my personal history was on my mind. Then my playlist played “Walk Like a Man” by Tim McGraw (number 85 on my top 100 list).
There’s a lot to this song I connect with, but it wasn’t really about those issues.
Grief is an interesting emotion. The world suddenly shifted in color, as if a filter had been applied behind my eyes. And just like that I knew my biological father was gone. And with that realization came a wave of loss. Sadly not of him, but of what could have been. It has been four months since his passing, but everyday from here on out is a reminder that in part, our story is over.
But I’m still here dealing with the hurt.
And just like that the world is different… I’m not sure it is better, though.
I have had three moments recently that reinforced the power of choosing my reactions to situations. Did I make the right choice? Overall I think so, but let me share these three dots…
First situation was a few days ago. It was time for dinner but our youngest daughter was not home. She is 10 years old. We knew where she was, she had ridden her bike to a friend’s house about eight blocks away. Frustration started to boil in my chest as the food was almost ready to serve and there was no sign of my daughter.
I decided to take the car to go get her. In my head I was mad because she should know to come home around 6 p.m. because we usually eat at that time. But then I thought of the fact that she does not have a phone or even a watch. Also, the weather is getting nice, she is a kid playing with a friend… time has no influence on her, just me.
I saw them on the driveway playing some kind of ball game. I rolled down the window. The moment had come to decide how I was going to handle the moment. Yell at her? Lecture her about being responsible?
“Time for dinner!” I said.
“OK,” she replied, smiling. She hugged her friend then got on her bike. She peddled next to me as I told her how fast she was going.
As we sat down to dinner she told me that she had asked her friend’s dad to let her know when it was 6:15 so that she would come home in time for dinner.
Second moment was yesterday at track practice.
I chose to yell. OK, more like raised my voice and brought out my frustrated energy.
Now, I did not yell at a single athlete or put anyone down. But I stood in the middle of the discus ring while the throwers stood around me. Their attitude and focus was shabby as they did some power throws. No left arm. Not smashing the bug (turning the right foot). Being smooth with their release… discuses were wobbly or 90 degrees. I was frustrated that the fundamentals were lacking, especially since this was the seventh week of the season. I let them know.
I am not a coach that yells. I stay pretty level, even when good things happen. I needed their attention. I got it. Practice afterwards was much better regarding focus and execution of the fundamentals.
The last moment was just this morning. My third daughter (age 14) came to my room before school started. She was obviously in a bad mood. As a dad I asked about it. (I know all you parents are already reacting… wrong move.) She replied that the question was annoying and put her earbuds back in.
My first reaction was to match her energy back at her. But I pushed the frustration down. I told her I was asking because I cared. She didn’t respond back. I continued to get ready for the day. My chest was still a little warm, but reminded myself that she was a teen, it was the morning. (I swear I didn’t say a single word to my second son in the morning all through high school.)
I went to get a ladder because I had to put up some posters my students made, when I returned my daughter asked if she could help. She wanted to climb the ladder. She took some funny pictures and helped me put up the posters.
Our emotions rise quickly in any situation, positive or negative. And there is nothing wrong with the emotions, but how we react to the situation and to the emotion dictates the outcome. My relationship with my daughters could have been bruised if I had yelled at them. My athletes needed a wake up call.
We do have a choice on how we react. It makes all the difference in some of the most important moments of our lives.
So, I’m not doing what I set out to do. I am supposed to be writing a really cool short story idea I have. I am at my favorite writing spot at my local coffee shop, The Blue Moon. I have my Bizarre Orange Encounter drink. (My traditional drink for moments like this.) My writing playlist is hitting the right notes. But I am blogging.
Chasing your dreams is hard.
Today, this moment, is a perfect example why.
First, I had planned this moment a few days ago. Our trash needs to be out on the curb at 7 a.m. I was like, I could just go to the Blue Moon to write before the day started.
It opens at 7:30. We are on Easter break. Perfect way to start the day. Well, it was a struggle to just get here.
I got the garbage out in time, but had to fight… fight the urge to just crawl back into bed and sleep. The voice in my head tempted me with the thought that I could write another time. And it is true… but that is the first hurdle to achieving your goals. Actually working on it.
There will always be something to take you away from working on your goals, especially if you have to hold down a job to chase your dream or raise a family or any relationship. We only have so much time. We all have the same amount each day. We decide how to spend it. It’s important to spend it well. That means your relationships, your job, but also your goals.
Yes, you have to plan your time, and that is OK. Plan the time with friends and family, but also your goals, and stick to it.
The second hurdle was my youngest daughter. She loves having breakfast at the Blue Moon. I was tempted to see if she wanted to go. To sit and talk with her about Taylor Swift and horses. But if I did, I wouldn’t get any writing done. Achieving balance is part of life. Hence, the reason for planning your time. It helps you maintain that balance so you can strive for your goals and be a good friend, father, and husband (in my case).
I showered, grabbed my computer, kissed my wife and headed to the Blue Moon. Got my drink. Put in my headphones. And started this blog… which is also a hurdle.
I am supposed to be working on a new short story. Instead, I am blogging. I know what you might be thinking reader. How is this a bad thing? You blog all the time.
It is bad because I am not working toward my goal. I want to be known as a writer. I have novels that are not completed. Short story rough drafts in notebooks. I have so many ideas that are not completed. They don’t write themselves.
Yes, I am happy to blog. I hope this post helps you in your pursuit of your dreams. But I wonder, am I just afraid to reach for that big dream. Are you afraid, too?
We find ways to distract ourselves, to give ourselves excuses not to chase those big dreams.
Today has 24 hours. Plan it well. Love your family and friends, but your goals need your time and effort too.
Today has been routine, blueberry muffins (and scrambled eggs and sausage patties) then church.
My mood was and is still a little blue after yesterday’s slam event (I Quit). But life has a way of giving me dots to connect (regular readers understand that reference). The message today was about obedience. This post is not about the sermon, it is about this life.
Obedience: noun
1 a: an act or instance of obeying
b: the quality or state of being obedient
*from Merriam-Webster.
First topic, writing, especially poetry but also any goal someone is pursuing. We understand the work it takes to pursue any goal. The dedication, the time, and the energy it takes. Even with the talent and work ethic, success is not guaranteed. But some form of failure seems to be. I think we all understand this concept, so let’s go deeper and bring in obedience.
“The quality or state of being obedient.” How is this connected to following a dream? Might be an unpopular take but I believe that our goals and dreams are part of who we are. In all our shades of colors, we are here to live a life driven by our goals. Of course they change as we grow, as we learn, and as we fail. And yes, others have the same goals. I can’t even imagine how many people want to be a poet… but they can’t write my poems.
Being obedient to a dream is to be true to ourselves. To give our life the authority of creating our everydayness. Yesterday (and still a little today), I felt like giving up on poetry, on writing. But I actually have a rough draft of a poem already on paper…
Poetry is not something I do
It is who I am
Do you not understand?
I understand, too well, that following a goal is not so easy, that our everyday life is filled with decisions and the welfare of other people. That we have in our hearts a collection of desires and hopes. There are moments when our dreams are in conflict with each other, and we have to make a choice. Which dream do we obey?
Obedience is not giving away our power, it is fulfilling what our life should be. We can rebel, I can quit writing. I can ignore the muse when it strikes. I did not have to write this blog post. You, reader, would have never known I was rebelling. Rebelling against who I am… but that’s not being REAL. (My word for the year.)
What about the muffins? Faithful readers know the role of making muffins on Sunday for my family. It is also an act of obedience. Obedience to my dream, my reality of having a loving home, having a tradition that brings us all together as much as possible. A dream I try to be obedient to every day.
Last school year I poured a total of 19,536 ice cubes into water bottles every morning. It is part of our family routine. My wife and I get up about an hour before we wake the kids. I make lunches and fill water bottles with ice and water (if it is a reading camp day, then Gatorade or something like that).
As a dad I have poured 214,896 ice cubes into water bottles for my kids. This is a very conservative number because it does not include any sporting events, and is based on last year when I filled only three water bottles. There were years when I had four, even five water bottles to fill in the morning. (If you’re wondering, yes I counted the ice cubes on Monday as I poured them into a water bottle… whatever it takes for a blog post.)
Why am I writing about this?
Let me see if I can connect the dots. First, our lives are actually filled with small things that add up to some big numbers… I don’t think I can even calculate how many times I have heard a basketball hit a gym floor… Just this week we watched seven basketball games. And we have another game tonight. Add all the games my son’s played during their school days and the number is unbelievable.
How many pieces of toast have I eaten in my lifetime?
How many M&M’s or pieces of popcorn have you eaten in your lifetime?
How many brush strokes have you used to clean your teeth?
Crazy to think about. There are so many parts of our daily life that seem insignificant, yet add up.
We live about 2.5 billion seconds (based on average life expectancy).
Crazy to think about.
Our lives have important moments: state basketball games, first day of school, a wedding. But what we spend most of our time doing is living with small elements in this world that add up to determine the quality of our life.
Tomorrow morning I don’t have to pour about a hundred ice cubes into three water bottles. But I will, and I will do it again next week. Each week adds up to over 500 ice cubes.
Why? Because I want to spend a few seconds doing something that shows my children I love them.
I probably will have some popcorn tonight while watching one of my daughters play basketball. My ears will be filled with the dribbling of basketballs but my heart will beat with the joy of being a dad.
I’ll brush my teeth tonight, then kiss my wife goodnight. In those last moments before sleep, I will be happy with the way I spent 86,400 seconds.
Would I be able to say or write anything if I knew it was the end?
I think I would want to see the stars one last time, that’s for sure.
But I’m 99.9% sure this is not the end. That I will get up tomorrow morning, get ready for work, fill my daughters’ water bottles, maybe make lunch (at the time of writing this they are going to eat hot lunch tomorrow). On the way to work my wife will get her Mocha Sea Salt Caramelicious blender. I will teach, eat lunch, teach some more, then head home. Depending on the night we might head to an activity, make dinner, or take one of the kids to a practice. I might wash dishes, or sit down to write with a cup of coffee (which I have next to me as I write). To finish off the day, I will read (reading Fairy Tale by Stephen King right now), brush my teeth, take my blood pressure pill and head off to bed.
Then repeat…
…unless…
…unless, this is the end.
I would like you, reader, to know that it has been a blessing to share my writing with you. To share my joys and heartbreaks.
I would want my family and friends to know I love them and that this life is beautiful underneath all the hate, trouble, and selfishness it seems to wrap itself in.
I would like people to remember my writing and the depth I tried to live my life. This life is the closet thing to heaven I’ve ever found.
But it is not the end… but I’m going to do a little stargazing after posting this blog.
I’m also going to make sure to tell people I love them before I go to bed. You never know.
We finally got out of the house today. It was late morning, we had our traditional Sunday morning breakfast, but we were running low on milk and other supplies because we stayed home for two and a half days as another snow storm hit our area.
During the last three days, I adventured out a handful of times to clear a path on the driveway. I battled new drifts each time. And of course had to deal with the pile of snow the plows leave at the end of the driveway every time they clear our cul-de-sac.
It was cold! No, we do not own a snow blower, so I cleared the driveway (four times) with a shovel. Besides taking a lot of time, it was peaceful work. Scoop, fling, repeat. I watched the drifts fall and found my way to the street. Of course I had to repeat the process because of the storm, but it was good work.
After muffins this morning, I had to tackle a new drift. The wind had died down during the night and this drift was a piece of cake compared to the first round. I had our driveway cleared in less than 20 minutes.
But what struck me this morning was how fast a new routine was developed. Of course the storm lasted for two days, but in fact I have the routine of clearing the driveway whenever there is a storm. And I scoop, fling and repeat.
Routines get a bad rap sometimes. I understand that, especially when a routine feels never ending. I was tired of seeing new drifts form on the driveway, yet as I cleared the snow I saw the street get closer. Some routines are never ending… washing dishes, laundry, just life in general can feel mundane.
But, if we hold to that thought, the routine will feel heavy and joyless. I enjoyed shoveling the snow. I enjoy making muffins every Sunday, and tonight I washed dishes while listening to music. I stopped to dance to one of my favorite songs, “Remind Me” by Tom Grennan. My daughters laughed, my wife gave me ‘the look’ but I was enjoying the moment. (Of course I was wearing headphones and I can’t sing very well!)
Because without the routines, what would happen to our everyday life? If I don’t shovel the driveway, we are running out of food. Let alone the dishes or laundry. Routines are small moments that help make life run smoothly, but more importantly, opportunities to feel everyday joy.
In 2021 Kevin Garnett wrote a cool book, KG: A to Z: An Uncensored Encyclopedia of Life, Basketball, and Everything in Between. Instead of a traditional narrative structure, KG told his story by creating a personalized encyclopedia. The reader could look up a topic or word to read his insight or his story connected to that word like an encyclopedia. It was a cool book to read.
The past 10 months have been challenging. My perspective has been challenged on many different levels. Certain words or ideas have been the focus of some of those challenges. I thought it would be useful to use the same organization KG did for his book for this blog post. So, here is my Life Encyclopedia.
Art: The expression of the heart. See also, music, poetry, writing.
Blogging: See writing.
Death: The natural end of our time here. Everybody knows that death awaits for us all. Yet, we do not actually live like we know this truth. We waste time on petty issues, or involved with our screens in some mindless activity. We tend to live like tomorrow will always be there, so we feel like we can let today slide. I wonder what life would look like if we actually lived like we knew our time here ends.
Dreams: I debated on whether to use ‘dreams’ or ‘goals’ for this section. I decided on ‘dreams’ for two reasons. First, it sounds more poetic. Second, I feel that a dream can be accomplished, but even then a dream can still pull at your heart. And chasing our dreams should be part of our everyday existence. The pursuit of making our dreams a reality is what fills our spirit. Makes the hard days easier to endure. Our dreams are our purpose for being here. Some dreams change, some become reality, while we chase others our whole life. That is the beauty of having a dream.
Family: This is the most complex life topic I’ve been dealing with over the last year. Family has been a central issue all of my life. From living separately with both biological parents, to walking away from most of my bloodline, that allowed me to start my own family.
There is the crutch of the idea of family. As a dad I have a saying (OK, I have a handful of sayings), “Family gets your best behavior.” The heart of this is to remind everyone that the most important people should not be treated better than strangers. Yes, there are disagreements and challenges to work through, but they are handled with love. Our home is the safest place in this world for everyone.
I never felt safe or truly loved growing up. I knew that, at different times, that alcohol and other people mattered more than me. Even as I’ve learned more about who my biological father was after his passing, I still wonder why I didn’t matter. Why their son was not worth their time or love.
Blood doesn’t define family. I mattered to Wayne and Janine (for new readers, Janine is my mom that passed away last summer). I found a home that was filled with love that showed me what a family could be like. No, it wasn’t perfect. This household isn’t perfect, but the foundation is love and acceptance. That is how a family is built.
Friends: Yes, a friend can be seen as family, but I think real friendship is its own unique relationship that allows it to be a separate component of life. I don’t have a lot of real friends. Oh, I have many friends and acquaintances, but honestly, I have one best friend. We have been friends since junior high. Yes, we have had some rough spots, and yes, it was over a girl, but what makes our friendship strong is knowing that we have each other’s back. We share our dreams and hardships. Even though we are miles apart, we do fun things, like right now we are sharing our top 100 songs of all time, but doing it one day at a time. We have been there for the big moments; we both were each other’s best man for our weddings. A friend is part of your foundation that brings a different kind of joy and support.
Learn: The act of becoming who you are through different means; such as reading, living, questioning and other experiences.
Life: This moment right now, which is a mix of the past, dreams for the future, and the current emotion to create a unique experience for all of us.
Love: The center of life.
Music: One of the many artistic elements that build bridges between people. For me it is a sanctuary. I always had the radio to accompany me when I changed houses, changed parents, changed my life. There is nothing like sharing a song with someone, finding common ground in lyrics and music.
Poetry: The way I understand this life. The artist way I can make sense of my emotions while processing the questions I have about how life unfolds. By writing poetry I understand myself more. By studying the art form I become better at writing, but also thinking, which allows me to come to terms with both the joys and sorrows of this life. Poetry also allows me to build connections with other people, other artists, other poets. I do not trust many people, but I trust poetry.
Real: My word for this year. This might be the hardest word for me because I do not show the real me to too many people besides in my poetry and other writings. The reason for this blog post is me trying to live by my word. At the moment I am skeptical that I can live up to it in this world that is quick to destroy anyone that tries to be real.
Writing: Poetry is my first love, but I wrote my first short story in fifth grade. I have been blogging for decades now. Writing, in all forms, gives me a sense of being. In a way it allows me to be the real me. Writing is like praying for me, even at this moment I have my “Writing” playlist going, I am pondering questions of the past, considering a few future opportunities I have and feeling some strong emotions that encompass a broad range – I am living.
If you are a faithful reader of my blog you know I write a lot about being a father, but this blog post will be written as a son. And I have no idea where it will go. All I know is that I need to write something to help deal with finding out today that my biological father has passed away.
There are so many emotional elements that I am processing right now.
The first is dealing with the third death in less than a year. The harsh reality that our time here is limited and unknown. But I’m going to leave this topic for another day.
This post is about me as a son. Of spending most of my life dealing with the question of why I was never important enough for either of my parents to love me, to raise me, to guide me in this life. And now I won’t have the chance to ask my father… or as any son deeply desires, to know if he was proud of me.
A blog post is not enough space to tell my whole story. To bring forth the pain his absence created in my life and does still to this day. And I am scared of the feelings I will have tomorrow.
He never saw me play football in high school or in college. He has never seen his six grandchildren. I never had my father to ask advice from. He lived his life as if I wasn’t here.
And yes, I know that some of you are asking why I didn’t reach out to repair the relationship. First, a single blog post can not cover the craziness of my younger years. The alcohol and drug use my parents partook in, living with them with their new wife or husbands, moving from city to city. As I grew older, I understood how I was seen as a burden at times or other times simply forgotten by both of my parents.
And as I started a family, worked at being a good dad, I became even more angry at both of my parents because I did a good job of being a dad. Yes, it was hard at times, I have sacrificed for them, but I am proud of my kids. And that deep rooted question grew even more in my heart.
Why couldn’t my parents love me? Why wasn’t I worth their time?
There was a moment when my father and I reconnected for a brief second. We saw each other in person (a crazy story) and a few letters were sent back and forth but in the end it was clear that nothing had changed. I wasn’t a son he wanted to be a father to (he had another family). So I went on living my life, never having the question answered.
But I am his son. And it hurts to even think about what could have been, maybe what should have been.
I believe all children, but especially sons, just want to know that their father is proud of them. Sadly, now, I will never know. I am left believing he didn’t care… and that hurts the most.
This morning everyone was home for breakfast, even Mocha, the newest addition to the family (she is my second son’s dog). As we do almost every Sunday we had blueberry muffins. We also had scramble eggs and bacon, Mocha loves bacon. Even mom fed her a piece.
As we talked about the holiday break, I was struck with the knowledge of what a special moment we were in. To have our family tradition of blueberry muffins on the last day of a year with everyone at the table. This day may never happen again.
Oh, we will have blueberry muffins next Sunday. We will all be together again, maybe with new additions as my older children build their adult lives. But this morning was unique, special on a number of different levels.
But isn’t everyday unique?
Even as we fall back into the routine of work and living, falling for the trap of thinking life is just a routine and each day is the same as the day before. It is not.
There will never be a day like tomorrow. Yes, it is a Monday. But it is the first Monday of 2024. That will never happen ever again. What will you do with the unique day you have tomorrow?
There are important routines in our lives. Things we should do on a regular basis. These routines build a foundation for us, but each day we are given is new, and 2023 has taught me that it is not guaranteed. We know this… but we don’t actually live like we know it.
So, I challenge you to see each day for what it is… a new day that you have never experienced before. To live life with an appreciation for the routines, yet excitement for the new opportunities that the day brings.
It is all Connected 