On our podcast, The Creative Moment, my son introduced this saying. I don’t remember where he learned it from, and I paraphrased the quote, but we use the idea as motivation, as an idea to get through tough times, and to highlight a simple aspect of this life. There is a lot of living that happens in 365 days.
June was the anniversary of the death of my mom (you can read about that here: Meeting Death). There are so many ways that I am reminded of her, but there is simply still the void created by her passing. No text messages, or sending her photos of her grandkids. No visits planned (my parents would always visit us each summer).
And even though these last 365 days did not bring her back, life continued. Continued through rough days, suddenly being flooded with emotions, happy memories from a photograph.
I’ve written a few poems over the last year and published a collection of poetry, While Death Waits, that dealt with her passing. One of the most wonderful aspects of sharing the poems has been the connections and moments of honest human exchanges of stories. Every time I share some of the poetry based on the death of my mom, people have wanted to share their stories, their pain, the love they had for husbands, mothers, and siblings.
This past year has highlighted the most important aspect of each day; living is embracing the full range of emotions we may encounter at any moment. If you can keep your heart open and loving, even as heartbreaking moments happen, you will strengthen your spirit. You will know you have lived. Each day lived will add up to a year of life, and that adds up to a wonderful life lived…
I have had a small phrase tumbling in my head for a few weeks. I’ve wanted to write about it the day I heard it, but life has been pretty busy, and I think it wanted me to experience some dots connected to the phrase before I wrote about it.
This post will center more on the phrase and the thoughts I have about it in our lives. The moments I experienced (the dots) may be mentioned, but sometimes the lessons are for me, not the blog.
At church, a couple of weeks ago, during the sermon, Father said a simple sentence that just woke me up. It was one of those moments when a truth hits hard because you hear it in a new way or from someone different. If you are a constant reader of my blog you might be surprised why this phrase hit me so hard because you’ve read posts that align with what Father said…
He said, “We are free to love.”
I’m not even sure what the homily was about, my mind and heart just took off with understanding and agreement. Then questions on why we don’t live this…
Let that sit for a moment. Feel the liberating sense of joy bubbling deep inside your chest. Knowing that you can smile, tell someone to have a good day. You can dance to your favorite song. Hug your kids. Hug your parents. Write a poem (or a blog post). Walk under the stars and let the knowledge that you are standing under a million stars. That you were given this moment to love… to love life, to love others, to love yourself.
Why don’t we live this way?
In answering this question let me share just a little bit about one of the dots life gave me, my mother’s memorial. It was a graveside ceremony that my dad presided over. I read two poems at different times during the ceremony. When my dad brought up the moment I became part of the family, I broke down a little. See, my parents did not have to include me. My siblings did not have to include me. It’s a long story, but they chose to love me as a son, as a brother, as family.
The first part of why we don’t live with the ‘freedom to love’ is choice. Now I’ve written about this in a number of past posts. But there is something different about the mindset to the idea of ‘the freedom to love.’ The choice to love is more of a gift of ourselves than a responsibility we check off of our to do list. And I love giving gifts!
But giving a gift has its risks, which is also why we don’t live such joyful lives. REJECTION and all the complicated emotions and pain that come from someone rejecting our gift, in this case our love.
Not going to sugar coat this. It hurts. It can break us when we love someone with every space available in our hearts, and they walk away.
I don’t have a magical potion that will take that pain away. I’ve been there, I still deal with the effects of some devastating moments. What I know is that giving my love to people that accept my gift is one way to heal. I also know love may be the only thing that grows the more you give it away. we are free to love as much as we want.
We are free.
We are free to love.
To love others, to love life, to love ourselves.
I hope you accept this blog as my gift to you, with love.
Which song should I play as an intro? “Live Like You Were Dying” by Tim McGraw? How about Kris Allen’s “Live Like We’re Dying”? I’ve got some more songs that didn’t make the radio but have the same message.
And I agree with the message. But death is not a pop song. A life isn’t 3 minutes and 20 seconds long. The death of my mom this summer and the death of my wife’s mom yesterday morning has taught me some hard lessons that you won’t find in any lyrics because there are some tough things to process.
The hardest lesson is the reality that death brings the end of a life. That’s it. One moment they are in this world, there is a chance, a hope, possibility to talk, to eat breakfast. After the last breath, that is all gone. As I stated in an earlier post, there is not even a today for that person, for us. Their story has ended.
Even as a poet I can’t describe the empty space in life that death makes when someone has passed. When I went home to visit my dad this summer I felt it in the house. Yesterday, we visited my father-in-law and I felt that same emptiness in the house. They are just gone.
I know there are memories, pictures, and the effects of the relationship built with someone. But the physical reality of them not here challenges my heart. There are no hugs, no laughter, no opportunity to share moments with them. There is a silent emptiness that reminds me that they were here.
Both my mom’s and my mother-in-law’s death destroyed them physically. Which in turn took away a part of who they were as people. My mom couldn’t read her mystery books or take walks. My wife’s mother hardly moved, she was in and out of consciousness. The fear in my mom’s eyes haunts me. My mother-in-law’s painful mumbles echo in my head.
Part of who we are is connected to the condition of our bodies. When the body starts to deteriorate, so does our ability to be who we are. I had never held my mom’s hands so much as I did the months leading up to her death. At times that was the only way to say I was there. To say I love you.
Death is not a final scene with soft music playing in the background. It is a harsh reality that challenges everyone.
Then there is life, which continues, even as I mourn the loss of two mothers, two wives, two grandmas. Two stories that have ended. Yet, the sun rises each morning. Orion appears in the night sky. Other stories are being told all around me.
I don’t want to live like I’m dying. I want to live so that when the time comes for my story to end, my loved ones can close the book and say, “that was a good story.”
I have over six different drafts of this post. I have different introductions, pop culture references, links, and music in the rough drafts. The issue I want to talk about is the power of fatherhood. More specifically the devastating power of not having a father in a child’s life.
I have been working with the idea of doing a series of posts about what it is really like to be a dad, but an episode of Happy Daysgot me thinking about the effects of not having a father in my life and the effect it has for other kids. I had never seen the episode of Happy Days before. My youngest daughter likes the show Happy Days. We watch the show on MeTV. One Sunday afternoon the episode, “Arthur, Arthur,” was playing. The episode is part of the last season of the show. By the end, I was in tears.
The story line of Fonzie and his dad is highlighted in season 6 with the episode, “Christmas Time”.
My story is different. I have shared parts of that in a past post (Life Lessons About Fatherhood). The feelings of abandonment, anger, and questions of why are similar, though. But in “Arthur, Arthur” there is a moment that rocked my soul. I have tried to find a clip of the episode, but there is not one to be found. In the episode Fonzie finds out his father has died. That changes everything. Fronzie expresses how he always hoped that someday he would be able to see his father. That while his dad was alive there was always a chance to understand why his dad left. A chance to heal the emotional wounds. With his dad passing, that opportunity was gone. Fonzie would never get to know why. The wounds would never fully heal.
The episode ends with Fonzie showing the broken gold watch his father wanted him to have. He wasn’t going to get the watch fixed because it represented his dad the way it was. A broken watch for a broken relationship.
I understand how Fonzie felt… in my own way. But that specific pain of a son (or a daughter) not having a father in their life is almost universal.
This song was released my senior year of high school. By that time, I hadn’t talked to my father for about eight years. But had lived with three step-dads and a few boyfriends that my mother had. The lines “I didn’t write these pages / And my script’s been rearranged.” expresses one of the perspectives children have when a parent leaves them.
Being abandoned by people who are supposed to guide you in this life is devastating. I know I am focusing on fathers, but the same holds true for mothers.
There are too many kids trying to navigate this life on their own. And they write their stories with a foundation of loss, of uncertainty, and a deep sense of not being enough, not being loved because their parents are not there.
I am not a perfect father or husband. But I try every day. And maybe that is the hardest part of looking back. I am raising six kids. Even though I make mistakes, I try to make sure they know they are loved. It is not easy, but I am proud of my kids. I am proud of the home I have built.
But everyday I wonder why wasn’t I worth the effort?
Like almost every Sunday morning, we made blueberry muffins for breakfast. I brewed a cup of coffee, set the oven to 410 degrees, started some music on my phone and got the paper cups into the muffin pan. For new readers, making blueberry muffins is a foundational part of my family’s life and a running metaphor for this blog.
Today is also Father’s Day. As my playlist switched to the song “Wild Horses” by Gino Vanelli, I thought about how music and specific songs defined moments for me as a father. I thought it would be fun to share some of those moments and music as a celebration for Father’s Day. Grab some headphones as I share some good vibes about being a father.
“Arms Wide Open” was a staple on radio when my first child was born. Once I held my son for the first time, I understood this song, completely. The feeling of wonder and responsibility never faded for any of my children’s births. Fatherhood is not easy, but it is the greatest gift I’ve received in my life. Honestly, I believe the world can change from the home. I want this post to be a celebration, so I will simply say that I can not fathom how anyone, father or mother, can treat their children in so many horrible ways… Anyway, this song captures an honest view of the start of fatherhood.
There could be a number of songs here, in fact the song “Wild Horses” could be placed here, but this is a song my daughters like to dance to during our dance parties. Which we have done for about 20 years. On any random night we might have a dance party. We play music and dance. The fun part has been the change in music over the years. The boys had The Wiggles and “Jessie’s Girl.” Now, the girls have Imagine Dragons, Minecraft parody songs like, “Skelly Heart,” and SpongeBob. But the dance party has stayed, filled with music, laughter, and sweet dad moves.
This song started our family’s connection to the stage. My oldest son was 10 years old when he wanted to try out for Charlie in the musical Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory for our youth community theater production. To audition he had to sing and dance to a song of his choice. He decided on “Cave In.” He decided to dance literally to the lyrics. He was auditioning against older kids who had been in theater for a while. Did I mention he had never performed in a play or musical before? He got the part. Watching my son on stage was my first taste of fatherly pride.
That moment when your child finds a place in the world and you get to experience it. But also help foster it and be there through the rough spots. I will admit it is hard to not get caught up in that feeling. My children’s talents are theirs to develop and to reap the rewards from them. I am there to support them and enjoy the ride.
My oldest son isn’t the only one to enjoy the spotlight on the stage. My youngest daughters have been involved in our youth community theater program, too. Not to mention my adventure last year on the stage (What I am Learning). But it all started with my son using this song for his audition. And honestly, his last performance in high school as Tevye in The Fiddler on the Roof, was my first taste of knowing how much it hurts to let them grow.
We are also a basketball family. Yes, my youngest daughters play basketball, and also volleyball and tennis. My oldest son played basketball through junior high. But basketball has been an area for my second son (who did do some summer theater when he was younger). My second son started playing when he was nine years old. We have traveled thousands of miles to tournaments and practices. Each season my son would have a song or two we would listen to before we arrived at the gym. Those songs changed every season, but “The Show Goes On” has been a staple for him through the years. The message rings true for me as a dad as I continue to drive miles for him and his sisters now.
This song is one of my oldest daughter’s favorite songs from the show Good Omens. She is the artist, the wild soul in this world. Her taste in music, art, literature, and other forms of media is different, and that is awesome. I remember sitting in her room listening to this song and others from the soundtrack. Something I would do as a teen with my friends. She has influenced her younger sisters in some of the shows they watch, but she has taught me the importance of allowing my kids to have their own interests, to foster their own views in this world. She brings a beauty and wider lens to my world. The depth of fatherhood is found in the uniqueness of each child and the path they follow.
For the last song, I wanted to find a song that came the closest to my view of what it means to be a dad. My view of fatherhood has changed as my children have grown. Each age brings a new understanding of what it means to be a father. The needs and demands change with each year and each child. The joys and pains are unique for each of my kids. I know that they have their own battles in this world, and it only gets harder for them as they become adults. But I will be there for them, for as long as I can.
And if they ever come home, blueberry muffins will be ready for them on Sunday morning.
This morning it was about 57 degrees outside. I decided not to wear a sweatshirt because I always end up taking it off and tying it around my waist. My walk started out chilly, and stayed that way. Maybe it was because of the temperature that my thoughts jumped around in my head this morning…
I decided to listen to Dream Academy on my walk. The first song “Life in a Northern Town” has a line that got me thinking about the craziness of the moment.
I considered how many life changing events have happened over my lifetime. How many times people said we would be different when things went back to normal. That’s when I saw a bird hopping along a lawn with a beak full of grass and sticks. Obviously building a nest nearby. I was just passing a cul de-sac where a new home was being built. Three houses down from us, a new family was moving in. They arrived yesterday.
Home has always been a foundation of our lives. Sadly, this pandemic has elevated the sad reality that home is not a good place for all people. Domestic and child abuse cases have risen during this pandemic. Divorce rates are expected to rise after the lockdowns. Home should be the best place to be right now. As a father and husband, I was trying to make sure home was the best place to be for my family.
The wind was a constant on my walk. My bare arms took the blunt of the chill. The cold actually felt like sleeves on my arms. It felt good in a way. As I turned corners, or walked along the curve of a street, the wind would shift from my shoulders to my face. Walking through the wind gave me a defining edge. I felt my arms swing through, my forehead chilled and my eyes squinted. I felt like me, I felt a boundary to my existence which has been blurring like the way days are blending together. Walking through the cold heightened my sense of self this morning.
I followed a curve of a street that led me to a street filled with blossom petals.
I was struck by the beauty and sadness of the scene. The trees in the area were still mostly filled with the blossoms. And the blossoms would be replaced with leaves and the trees would have a different look, a different beauty. But the situation reminded me that everything changes. Endings happen. There are new beginnings. And pain is part of that process. Whether it is regret or the feeling of loss, our heart goes through that pain. If we truly live our lives with an open heart, we will feel both sides of the spectrum. Joy and sorrow. That’s good. Those emotions give us a defining edge too.
I turned the last corner. I had three blocks till I was home. As life does sometimes, the music in my earbuds played a most appropriate song…
Life has hit me with some serious dots lately… dots that reveal the importance of fathers. Let me share the dots with you in an honest and vulnerable post…
Dot 1. We are reading the book Night by Elie Wiesel. One of the themes is about family that develops into the father-son relationship.
Dot 2. I am preparing for a local poetry slam. One of the poems I have decided to use is about an old photo of my father and me.
Then in a single night, life hit me with three dots. Two of the dots are surface level moments, but then the last dot shook me. I’ll get to that.
Dots 3 and 4. Saturday night I was traveling to Lincoln to pick up my second son from his first job as an intern for Striv. He was working on the highlight videos for state volleyball. He had been in Lincoln since Friday morning, shooting footage of games and then editing video for the introductions before the championship games. Dot 3 was just being a dad. A proud dad. The time on the road allowed me to think about life, about being a father. Dot 4 is a song. I grabbed some CDs to listen to on the road. One of the CDs was Lupe Fiasco’s Food and Liquor. The song, “He Say, She Say,” deals with the effects of a son without his father.
Then the last dot… Dot 5. A moment that has been scrambling my spirit, even today. I tried writing a poem… I have written a version of this post, like five times, what you are reading is just me deciding to write as truthful as I can.
I had to stop to gas up the car on my way to Lincoln. I pulled up to the second row of pumps. There was a white truck at the first row of pumps next to the store. From my angle I could see the front end of the truck and the driver’s side door which was open. I couldn’t see the person filling the tank because of the gas pump. I was going through the routine of filling up the car when I was struck by a voice from the truck.
A little boy said, “Dad… I’m sorry Dad! Dad? I’m sorry…”
My chest collapsed. Tears stung my eyes. I could hear the sorrow and fear of abandonment. I could see him, strapped into a car seat. Eyes wide. Head moving back and forth looking for his father. Feeling alone. Needing to see his father’s eyes, to hear his dad say that he was still loved.
Then he said it again, louder, with a tearful edge, “Dad, I’m sorry! Dad? Dad, I’m sorry!” (Yes, I am tearing up as I write this.)
His dad doesn’t respond. I know as a father that I have had to calm myself down at times before I interact with my children. So, I don’t think much about the child’s dad not handling the moment right then. I finish filling up the tank and get back into the car trying to handle my emotions.
I think about all my students who have rough family lives. I think about my own children who have said that they are sorry… but I can’t figure out why my heart hurts so bad… I get onto the interstate still dealing with the waves of emotions crashing in my chest.
When it hit me… The little boy’s voice mirrored my own pain. Even at the age of 48 I fight that feeling of abandonment and fear the boy reflected in his apology to his dad. Without getting into my messy life story, I haven’t had a relationship with my father since I was 10 years old. I know that part of the destruction of that relationship is my decision. But that doesn’t change the feelings of being lost and unloved that I battle with almost everyday.
If you are a parent reading this… Love your children. Hug them. Read to them. Tell them they are forgiven. Give them a foundation that allows them to follow their dreams. I know what it is like to grow up without these things… it hurts, even decades later…
“Woman Burning Love Letters Sparks Nebraska Apartment Fire.”
The article stated that a 19 year-old woman was burning love letters from her ex with a butane torch in her bedroom. Some of the pieces that fell to the carpet started the fire.
When I read this, so many thoughts and emotions came to mind.
My first reaction, actually, was happiness. To know that people still write love letters, in this digital world, where we send emoticons as birthday wishes, that the woman’s relationship was so strong that they wrote letters to each other was cool to read. Of course, the pain of ending the relationship is tough to deal with.
Which brought up the next thought. Dealing with pain from relationships and love is a part of our lives. I couldn’t help but think about how many more times she would deal with heartbreak. And not just with relationships. Not getting a job or position, not achieving a goal, there are so many things that can bring us heartache in life. I wish I could tell her I know it hurts but that she will gain strength from this… and that love is still real. She will meet the right person in the future. Life can break our hearts, but love heals it.
Then my poetic side kicked in…
Your words no longer read true
Written in passion
Each letter started with my name in cursive
ended with a heart and your initials
Broken by actions
By trading in our future
for a set of green eyes
I only have this flame
To mirror the heat in my chest
Our future turning into ash
Black, rising in the air
As sections of words
Promises and devotions
Edged with amber flakes
Fall to the floor
My pain ignites the scraps
Flames crawling up the dresser
Consuming the picture of us
Cheek to cheek
Last winter in Colorado
I toss the shoebox holding the last few letters
Into the growing blaze
I grab my phone
and the book I’ve been reading
I close the door
On the burning of our life together
The headline read:
“Woman Burning Love Letters Sparks Nebraska Apartment Fire.”
I woke up with the song “Desperado” by the Eagles in my head this morning.
As I started my coffee, got the oven preheating, I brought up the song on my phone. Tears started falling as I placed the cupcake paper liners into the baking pans for the muffins. Some of you will understand right away my reaction; “Desperado” was a favorite song of the late Gary Monter. It was a song he sang to his boys as they were growing up.
Mr. Monter was my principal at Centura. He was great at his job, but he was also an amazing friend and person. He was 53 when he died, on a Sunday, in May of 2013.
I’m sure you have seen this video clip of Keanu Reeves.
Who loves you?
Who in your life needs to know you love them?
How can you tell them today?
Because today is the only day you really have to express your love for those that matter the most in your life.
Today.
Right now.
I cried this morning making muffins, and it was good for my soul. The pain reminded me that tomorrow is not guaranteed… but love is… even after we are gone.
Share this post with anyone you think would enjoy it.
What did you spend those minutes on? Your goals? Yelling at someone on the drive home? Letting someone know you loved them? Adding shows to your “My List” on Netflix?
Our lives have big moments, some of them positive, others are heartbreaking. But most of our life is how we spend the 1440 minutes we are given each day, and that is important to understand for a few reasons.
The first reason is because we all have a last day. No matter what you believe regarding the afterlife, we all get one life. One path to walk. Each day is an opportunity to show love. To work towards a goal. To strengthening relationships. Or not.
Maybe because I am a few years away from 50, but time has become more valuable to me. Each day is an opportunity to spend time doing wonderful things. Or we can do mundane or negative things. Yes, it is our choice on how we spend our time.
The second reason to understand how we live every day is the connection to the moments in our lives that are drastic. How we live everyday creates a foundation that helps us when the big moments happen in our lives. It doesn’t matter if it is a negative or positive moment, we will respond to those moments based on the way we live every day. We will respond with love or negativity. The foundation we have every day will not ease any pain we may feel, or make the joy from a moment last longer. Our everyday foundation helps us deal with the moment. It directs our next step.
Today is our life. How we live today builds our life. We will have our hearts broken. We will achieve goals. We will laugh. We will cry. Life is what we do now. What we do with the 1440 minutes. We don’t have a great life looking back on our last day… we have a great life today.
Below are a few media recommendations that correlate with this idea.
Books
The Big Sea by Langston Hughes is part of his story as a young poet. His story highlights how we live influences our goals and talents.
It is all Connected 