(Editor's Note: While I know there are folks that drop in to read this blog from time to time, to see if there is anything cute or funny, or otherwise entertaining, This particular blog entry will be none of those. This blog is being written as a starting point (at least, that is our hope) to reconnecting with my youngest child, whom we have been estranged from for 2 years now)
So, where to start? Let's go back to that first day we met. (Oh, don't worry, we are not going to do a version of "This is Your Life"). Where was I? Well that first day October 8, 1990. Around 4:40 in the afternoon. After a very long day for her Mother and I walking, and walking, and walking some more, followed by that anxious few moments when you were born.
Suddenly, you were here. (HERE!). Out in the world where your Mom and me had been waiting for you for months. I am not sure how it happened, but the nurse turned and handed you to me. You were red and blue and purple. You were wet. Your mouth was open, and you were screaming. As I have told this story in the past, I described it as one of those supersonic screams, your mouth was wide open, and your tongue was moving, and you could see clean to your tonsils, and yet, there was no sound. Supersonic, get it? In such a high pitch that only dogs could hear her at that moment! While standing there in shock, clutching my newly born daughter, the nurses were going about their business, slapping on the ID bracelets, and the wiping the crud off, and suctioning the crud out of your nose, and mouth, and ears, all the while, you were screaming. And the thought occurred to me at that moment, like getting hit by lightening, I Loved this little girl, more than life itself, and that there is nothing on the planet I would not do for her. EVER.
Age, time, and circumstances have changed/passed, and yet, that single moment still burns brightly in my head. I hope I never lose that moment in my memories, and I hope, that when it comes to those last moments in life, when your life flashes before your eyes, that day is in the "Hit Parade".
The birth of your children is a special moment. It is not just about biology, and the imperative of life to reproduce. Something that is an equal part of you (and by extension, all that came before you), and their Mother (and again, the culmination of all those that came before her!) has entered the planet, and has before anything else, changed your life. Doesn't matter if they are the first or the eighth, each one changes you in subtle ways.
Squirmy was here, and yet, she wasn't happy about it at all. Finally, after what seemed like ages while I was holding her, and the nurses were attending to her, they got her to a point where she was "mostly" clean, and, had the funny little hat on her head to help keep her warm, and wrapped like a little burrito. At this point, I turned back to Mom. She was asleep. Labor and delivery was/is tough on a woman, and don't let them tell you otherwise. But, I remember, I leaned over, and kissed her on the forehead, and feeling that, she awoke. I was able then to hand Little Squirmy to her Mom for the first time, and she said "We did it", and I responded, "I think, this was all you.".
Everything was perfect with you, and we all went home the next day, where her Big Bubba was waiting. He didn't understand what all the excitement was, and who can blame him. But, I remember sitting with him on the couch, while he was holding you so we could get a picture of that, and leaning down, I kissed Bubba on the forehead, and telling him, at age 2 of all things, that this was his baby sister, and that from now on it was his job to watch out for her. While he has been told that a number of times through the following years, I would love to believe that he heard me that day, and took that job seriously, right up to, and including today.
Through the years, there were a lot of landmark events that marked your life, and our lives with you. Of course, walking, and talking, and running, and riding the bike. That day I realized that you had learned all your numbers, and colors, and shapes, and letters from the flash cards that your Mom made that we would quiz Bubba in the car on the way to and from Mom and Dad's work. Or, later, when helping you with some homework, I asked you if you could read the questions, and with perfect diction, you read them to me, told me the answer, and then wrote them. I still remember that moment, because I realized that I had missed you learning to read, and write, and comprehend. And, yet as a Parent, it is one of those times where we can do nothing but beam with pride.
Of course, no conversation about your life would be complete without acknowledging when your Mom and me split because I just wasn't there for her.
Or, Years later, when you came to live with me full time, and all the things that we experieinced after that.
We'll skip ahead a few years to 2 years ago. Perhaps, 2-1/2 years ago. After the previous couple of years of you taking care of me when I was a complete basketcase after my second divorce, and not long after you moved back into you Mom's house after 5 years of living with me and you started, then finished your education.
Soon after that, the first of the big blow out arguments happened. Your car had broken down. Turns out a noise that you had heard a few days before, and you had called me about, that I had not been able to get down and look at, because of various schedule conflicts, was the water pump going out.
The shaft bearing failed, freezing the pump, and destroying the drive belt. We yelled at each other on the phone and exchanged strongly worded text messages. In a fit of Anger, I stated that if you didn't speak more respectfully, that I was going to take the car and the phone, both of which I am paying for, back, and let you move forward figuring something else out.
Your single sentence response, haunts me to today. You said:
"Go ahead and do that Dad. But when you do, know this, We Are Done."
I tried over the next few months to speak, and try to make things right. I apologized for my words. I ultimately paid for the repairs, even though a friend of your boyfriend was doing the repairs. I reached out on your birthday, and again at Christmas.
But, your walls were up, and I was declared persona non grata, certainly this wasn't declared out loud, or even via a text message, or even an email, and so, I was not able to get back in your good graces. I continued to pay for the car that you drove every day, I paid for the insurance. I paid for the phone that you asked to be upgraded to, and I paid the monthly charges to keep that phone working. I also paid for 95% of the upkeep, like oil changes, and tires, and inspection stickers, and license plates.
I continued to pay for this stuff, even after the 6 months elapsed after you graduated from College, (although you did not get the State License to go along with that Associates degree), which I had told you the year before that after 6 months, my expectation was that you were to start paying for your car insurance, your cell phone bill, and all the upkeep on the car.
But that six month anniversary, fell about the time that your car broke down, stranding you in the Zio's parking lot.
So, I didn't say anything. Because of the "We Are Done" statement.
See you are my precious little girl. My daughter. That girl, that 20 year before held close to my chest, and watched in shock, and amazement at those first few moments on the outside of Mom. I Don't/Didn't want to be DONE. I mean, you are the love of my life, a part of me.
Since then, we have been in something that can only be likened as Cold War Detente. We didn't speak much, and when we did there was always an underlying current of anger.
(Editor's Note: I told all of the above, to tell the story that follows.)
Skip Ahead to this past Tuesday, the 28th of August. Through a stupid act on my part, I locked myself out of my house, and with Bubba not being in town for two days, I reached out to my Squirmy, via text message first, then again a couple of hours later, and finally, leaving a voicemail on her phone, explaining that I was in a bind, and needed some help. See, you have the only key to my house, besides Bubba. I did not understand why you would not respond back. I mean, being upset that I am not doing enough to help you through life, but, to ignore me when I am in a real bind, unthinkable to me.
I knew that you were online, because my instant messenger, which tracks your Google Chat status said that you were online all day. But, nothing from you. By my going home time, around three o'clock, I had decided that I was going to get a hotel room, go to walmart to buy some shirts, and underwear, and toiletries, and just stay there until Bubba got home. I was worried about the critters, but, I figured they would be okay.
Finally, around 4, I get my first text, and you say that you were sorry, but that your phone had died earlier, and you had no way to respond or even receive messages.
A back and forth exchange happens, and you made it clear that you are not coming at all.
So, I apologized for bothering you, and asked would it be okay for me to come to get the key from you so that I could get into my house. You said okay, then I asked for directions. After which I was able to leave the office, and head south on I-45 from the Med Center. Let em tell you. it took me an hour and twenty-nine minutes to get there. I had told her that she could meet me in the parking lot when I arrived. So, when I got there, I pulled of most of my riding gear (it was 97 degrees, and I was dying!) and sent the text that I was there.
Presently, you came out, and with your impossibly large set of key/key-rings, you asked me if I could recognize my key. I said no. Then after looking at the two choices, and thinking about you selected one, and began to take it off your key ring.
You Handed The Key To Me. I said "Thank You For The Key."
I turned back to the bike, and when I turned to back to you to say goodbye, you were gone.
I was a little taken aback. But, I remembered that anger, and the bad words, and all the things, that as a Dad, I am not supposed to remember, AT ALL, and nevertheless, I dwelt for a few seconds on all that. Completing getting re-dressed for the ride home, 75 miles away, I swung my leg over the seat, cranked She up, and went on home.
Getting home, close to 3.5 hours after leaving work, I showered, and then, exhausted, fell asleep on my little couch. I dreamed, which is not normal for a "nap", and so the sleep was fitful. Waking up, I decided that perhaps what I needed was to clear my head, and since it was a Tuesday, a peviously declared permanent, adult beverage night, I dressed, and went to the bar, and had a couple.
It was exactly what I needed. It cleared my head, and it I was able to push all those "Thoughts a Dad should never think". I went home soon after that. Falling into bed, I slept all night, and if I dreamed, I do not remember it.
Going to work that next day, just two days ago as I sit here and type this, my co-workers asked me what had happened, and with each telling of the story, the more I remembered those things from the previous two years that a Dad should never think about, and as the day got longer, the angrier, and the angrier that I got.
Finally, it was time to go home. I unfortunately was in a bad place mentally. Angry/Sad/Melancholy. All that an more.
Unfortunately, I decided to go straight to that neighborhood bar. Well, perhaps, not unfortunately, Perhaps the Fates, those capricious dealers of your future, good or bad, had a plan.
I am ashamed to admit, in a public forum and particularly in a message that is dedicated to my Daughter, to admit that not long after arriving, I was drunk. But, I knew that I wasn't going to ride home anytime soon, and so, didn't really matter to me.
I had been there a couple of hours, and was "feeling no pain" as the old saying goes.
During the day, there had been several "troubling" tweets from Squirmy, that led me to believe that there was something bad going on in your life. I wondered, every time that I saw one, "Was I the cause of that?" and then, deciding that I was the cause, would feel ashamed.
Finally, you tweeted this:
@bekahchulekah 4:32 PM Aug 29th
I miss the day I was your number 1..if that's even what I was...
After seeing that - after a long afternoon of other tweets that "concerned" me, I sent you this SMS:
"Was That Tweet about me?
If so, you are. And have always been, and will until the moment that I take my last breath, be my number one. You are my Little Hija.
If the tweet wasn't directed at me......
You are still all that stuff."
(Editor's Note: He come across fairly well, even inebriated!)
So, several hours goes by, more alcohol was consumed, and the sun goes down.
I cut myself off, and decided no more alcohol after 9:00 (which means, I had been there drinking for a solid 5 hours) (SMH). I drank nothing but water, and coke, and conversed with the bartender, and finally, at 10:30 left for home.
(Editor's Note: Now, All of the above (All of it), told as background to tell this story: )
So, I am leaving the bar. In front of me, two fellows are leaving, and I do not really notice anything about them, except that they had long hair, one blonde-ish, and the other nearly black. I go around to the corner, find She, and take out my riding gear, gloves, helmet, and ear plugs.
After "dressing", I climb on, and start the bike, I take a minute to be sure that my helmet isn't squishing my ear, and the ear plugs are finished expanding. I start around the corner of the bar, and see a pickup (blue) backing out of a space, and I notice that it is the two guys that walked out right ahead of me.
Stopping to let the go, I decide that of the two exits out of the parking lot, I am going to go out the one on the right, and wouldn't you know it, the blue pickup picks the left, and turning left on the road off they went. I also turned left. Following along 50 or so yards behind them, they are in the left lane of the road, and I am in the right lane.
Nothing remarkable jumps out as I am recalling the entire event again. a few seconds later, I notice the front wheel turn slightly, as if the truck is changing lanes. I backed off the throttle, because I didn't want him to be that close, even downshifting from third to second.
Then. with his right-side wheels slightly on my side of the line, I grabbed the clutch, as he(they) came to a stop. I stopped as well. After 10 or so seconds, and me not know what was going on, I eased the clutch out, and started forward. The truck also started rolling, and pulled back left into his lane.
My Motocyclists-Brain SCREAMED "He's drunk" get away from him. so, as I thought this, I was coming up on his right-rear bumper, I had shifted up, from second to third. Then I saw him drifting again towards me. Now, my normal, every day reaction to someone encroaching into my lane, is to "gas-it" , and pass him, and get away from him.
Tonight, this was the first time that instinct was wrong. For some reason, despite the fact I had my earplugs in, and was accelerating, I heard the transmission on the truck downshift. Somehow, my brain knew this was a bad thing, that he had floored it, and was accelerating, so I grabbed the clutch, and a huge handful of front brake. I slowed suddenly, and as I did, I saw the truck move into my lane, where I had just been.
Had I not stopped, he probably would have caught me in the left leg, with the front end of the truck, crushing the leg, and punting me off the road. Looking to the right, I realized that with the deep ditch, and barbed wire, and the darkness in that stretch of road, I very well could have died.
Remember how I said earlier that perhaps the Fates were trying to teach me a lesson? Suddenly, my loud outside voice screamed in the confines of my head, or perhaps in the confines of my helmet "YOU COULD HAVE JUST DIED, AND THE LAST WORDS YOU SPOKE TO YOUR DAUGHTER WAS "THANKS FOR THE KEY"" Really, that's how you want to go out?
She is your DAUGHTER, not a coworker, not a friend, DAUGHTER.
Suddenly, while sitting in the middle of that road, while the blue truck accelerated away, my brain flashed back to the previous two years, to the years when you lived in my house, when you took care of me after Hobbit left.
(Editor's Note: We realized as we were typing this, that this is the second close call in less that 3 weeks. Perhaps the Fates have been trying to get my attention for a while. There was that lady with the car full of kids that pulled out from a side street, and stopped, blocking my entire lane, right in front of me. I stopped with less than 6 inches in front of my front wheel looking into the horrified faces of 4 small kids sitting across the back seat. Their Mom would have killed me, and they would have had a front row seat!)
I flashed through everything, going backwards in time, the purple dress she wore as the princess in the school play, watching you play your flute in front of hundreds of people, riding the bike, reading that worksheet that night, all the way, back to that moment where you were Supersonic, that moment after being born.
I said out loud, in the helmet "I do not want this to continue." "How horrible would it have been to die, knowing that the last thing I said, with my hurt feelings "Thanks for the Key". I mean, REALLY?
So, Squirmy. I do not know if you got to the bottom, here, but I hope you did.
I hate the fact that we are not speaking. I hate the fact that bad words have passed between us. I hate that I am not part of your life.
I Pledge this to you: I am willing to do most whatever it takes to get back to a place where we are speaking, and laughing, and maybe hopefully soon after that hanging out, and catching the occasional dinner again.
With All My Heart, I Love You. Please, let's figure this out.
Pops.
P.S. I normally sign off on my blogs with the following:
Shalom
Namaste, My Friend.
...and finally.....
See You On The Other Side
.....but, I do not want to wait until I'm on the other side to See You.
I Love You With all My Heart.