My daddy's birthday was yesterday.
I watch friends congratulate their dads on significant birthdays.
I see them post photos of weddings and christenings. And whatever the heck else ever they are celebrating.
I try to be cool. And happy for them.
There are beautiful birth stories with Grandads meeting the newborn.
Weddings.
Graduations.
Random Tuesdays where everyone meets up for pizza. Or tacos.
I do enjoy witnessing these friends and extended family gatherings. Knowing there are people who carved through the yuck to get to the good.
Also — It pisses me off.
My family never really got there. To the other side. We had it in moments…but never truly for real.
So what do I rage against?
Addiction? That seems easy and not even a little bit satisfying. It’s like being angry at cancer.
Which also is valid. But I digress.
Be angry at my dad? That is there too, but hurts my heart and the essence of what I know to be me so I can't hold that.
So what? Where do I direct the searing loss of those moments?
Maybe it’s reaching out with open arms to what I have here now.
Figuring out how to incorporate the love I have known and live with here now into the memories of ‘what could have been.’
Still waiting on that complete answer.
