The Moments

This past week, my dad would have celebrated his 80^th birthday. I did not realize that fact until my sister brought it to my attention. I don’t know about you, but when I think about my parents (both of whom are deceased), I always think of them the way I last saw them.

They haven’t aged in my mind.

In my father’s case, that means he looks about 48, since I last saw him when I was 12 years old. (That’s not when he died; no, he died when I was 18. But I was 12 the last time I saw him, I think.)

In my mother’s case, that’s a little tougher. Since the last time I saw her was the day before she died, in hospice care in her room at Beth Shalom Home in Richmond. In a couple of weeks, it’ll be three years since she died. Not looking forward to that anniversary.

At this moment, my thoughts are on my dad. When I think about what things would be like if he were still here, my brain is flooded with what if’s. What if he had been here when I needed him? What if he were here to be proud of me? What if he could see the man I’ve become? I even think about this question: what if I had been there when he needed me? But I have to let that one go. That question is dangerous because the answer cannot be safely had, and is certain to send me down the deepest and darkest of holes.

I get so much love from my own children that sometimes I wonder if I should’ve given him more love. Had I done that, perhaps I could’ve saved him. Part of me understands that’s not true, but other parts of me begin to stray, and where they want to wander is not a safe place.

So, I won’t go there, at least not today. But I will allow myself to think about other possibilities, imagine alternate endings and remember all of the times with him I wish I could have again, have to do over, or simply have. These are the moments of my life, defined by who he was and who he wasn’t, when he was there and when he wasn’t, and what we did together and didn’t do.

These are the moments when I needed him:

• The day he died
• The day Mom died
• The times I really should have studied at Princeton, but didn’t
• The birth of each of my children
• The day Danielle and I separated and I got on a train to New York
• The day Mom, Maya and I had to move into a homeless shelter (that’s where I fell in and out of love with Twix candy bars)
• Starting over professionally two years ago
• The days leading up to Christian’s high school graduation
• The day I gave a speech about him in my senior year of high school, soon after he died
• Every time my sister cried

These are the moments that would have made him proud:

• Seeing Jordan swim competitively for the first time
• Christian’s graduation (especially because of the military tradition)
• Singing the national anthem at my high school graduation
• The day I quit smoking
• Starting Share More Stories
• When I gave Mom’s eulogy at her funeral
• Going undefeated in crew my freshman year at college
• Alexis smiling at her daddy
• Evan playing with trains
• The day Darcy and I got married

These are the moments he helped me become the man I am today:

• All the Christmas mornings when he was there
• Building and playing with trains
• Working on soap box derby cars as a cub scout (with my parents as den leaders)
• The nights I spent listening to 70s and 80s disco and soft rock on his clock radio
• Watching him fall asleep while watching black and white westerns, and not being able to watch anything else because he would wake up the second I changed the channel
• Wearing matching brown corduroy suits to church
• Attempting to play basketball together and realizing neither of us were any good
• Building model ships together
• When he came to my school for career day
• When he held me in his arms, thinking I was asleep, while he cried

These are our moments. He was there in person for some of them and he wasn’t there for many more. But simply by reliving these moments, I’m reliving him. He was 48. Now he’s 80. And these moments define me.

I have daddy issues. I’m my daddy’s son.