Big loss, huge gain

Tough weekend. One of the worst.

Let me explain.

At the beginning of this trial seperation, my wife and I didn't talk. Then, gradually, we began to talk again.

First, it was just on Saturdays after she got done teaching. We would meet and swap important bill or check stuff, and see how the other was dealing with this. During these times, we would check to see if this was going to be just a bump in the road, or if we were just putting off the inevitable.

We both seemed to agree that it was the end; that is, we were both really ok with letting the spouse go. What we didn't realize was, we were not ready to let the friend go. That realization came this week.

We started to talk more this week. She was scared, or I was upset and broke. She didn't want to get a new apartment, and I didn't want to have to live with a roommate. We were almost able to help each other, but then the last day, we just couldn't get past our own shit to help the other. We hung up the phone feeling awkward.

When I told a friend this, he said that I needed to cut things off. That we couldn't be there for each other any more, it was unhealthy. I knew what he was saying, but I just didn't let it sink in. He told me it was now time that I became my own best friend.

Then, Saturday morning came around. I found myself making enough coffee for when she came by. I was delaying going to the grocery store, so that I could pick up lunch in case she was hungry. Old me. Old routine.

When my wife called, I thought it was to say, I'll be right there. Instead, she said that we couldn't do this anymore. She wasn't coming over. I knew she was right. I told her we couldn't be this for the other. She said yeah, then said goodbye.

I hung up the phone and stood there for a moment. Something had hit me, but the force had left me in shock and I wasn't yet aware of the pain. I got in the car and drove to the store. Half way there, the tears started coming.

I was able to gather myself to shop, but when I thought of treating myself to something nice, I went for ice cream. I went for the extra creamy, just like she always liked. It didn't register, but it did. By the time I had gotten to my car to drive home, I was a wreck.

I drove home while sobbing. The kind where you can't catch your breath. The kind where you just float through the room, blind to what is around you, and only aware of what is no longer there.

I cried alone like that for about an hour. I kept thinking that I had to be my own best friend. Pull myself out of this. I just couldn't though.

Who could I call? I felt like I had been dumping too much on my friends lately.

My mother is so frightened of me, that I couldn't call her.

My sister!

No one was there.

Pulled myself together just enough to make it obvious on her message that I was trying to pull myself together. I needed to talk to some one. Who? Who?

Break down. Call the folks. Who knows, maybe the unexplainable will happen and your father will answer. Sure enough, he did.

What's going on, I said, trying not, yet, to have him realize that I was a puddle.

The whole family was gathered at the house, waiting for my uncle's family and my grandmother, who should be there right then.

Shit. This isn't going to be good. Slowly, so as not to release all at once, I tell him that I am having a bad day, and could he just not let on to anyone else that I am like this.

Sure, sure, he says. I hear him light a smoke, and grunt as he gets up and heads out back. Sitting on the porch, he is not really hiding from anyone in our small house, but he is at least out of earshot.

What's up, he says.

Then, I am unable to hold it in. Finally, someone to tell. Someone who asked even. I jump into breathless sobbing, and mutter how I have just lossed my best friend.

Here, I need to give a bit of background on my father.

He is a funny guy. He is a tough guy. He doesn't show emotion. Sometimes, I am unsure he has emotion.

I always thought he liked my jock, macho brother better than me. I figured he respected me, but didn't understand me. I remember, in my early twenties, thinking that I hadn't heard him say I love you to me for about 10 years. It took awhile, but I got him to start saying that. He never sounded like he meant it. He always paused before saying it, like he was holding his breath, or plugging his nose while doing this awful task.

So, I must say, it came as quite the shock that he said and did everything right when I called the other day.

He told me about when he split briefly from my mother, how he felt alone and sad and full of rage. He was surprised I hadn't gotten to rage yet.

He told me that of all his children, the thing he loved about me was how emotional I was. He said he thought I was capable of feeling emotion that he would never be capable of feeling.

He told me he would pay for whatever I needed, and knew that that sort of thing bugged me, but told me life is harder than it ever has been now, and just to let that go for awhile.

He told me to start taking down the paintings in the house, because the memories and sentiment attached to them was too much to bear. As we talked, I moved all of the art into the spare room, and turned it backwards. My plan now is to draw torture paintings on large notepad paper and hang them up in the blank spots in the room.

I cried to him like that for a whole hour. He never left to go to the rest of the family. He held firm with me, and chain smoked, until I was able to breath, and then he told me all of that again, knowing that this time I would actually hear it, and let it sink in.

He told me that this is the bottom, and now, slowly, it will start to go up. Slowly. Eleven years is a long time. This is like a death. I am going to need time to grieve. Then, soon, but not real soon, it will start to feel better.

I knew he was right. I knew it because for almost forty years, I had wanted a dad who would say just that, and never felt like I had him, and then there he was. One hour, and I had the thing I thought I didn't have for almost four decades.

So, this other loss is only one decade. Shouldn't take that long then.

Thanks dad.