Figuring

Still a little pissed. Need to get over that. Get through. Figure it out. But, in my defense, I can be a bit of an angry gnome. Just a bit. And, if gnomes were tall. Maybe a low simmering pissed is just my typical state? 

Or, am I sad?

I don’t know the difference any more.  

It's been six years. Tomorrow. Since my stepdad died. And, I only use the term stepdad as a notation. So people don’t get confused. He did all the dad stuff. He should get the title.

This year when his birthday rolled around, I thought of him. But it wasn’t at the forefront of my mind like in years past. It hit me later in the evening. Like a lightbulb moment of ‘Oh, yeah. His birthday.’ Tomorrow isn’t like that. I’ve been thinking about it for weeks. I know it’s coming. The scab is less, for sure. More scar, less scab. I still remember my stomach dropping, my legs letting go and then sinking to the floor. That empty feeling in the pit of my stomach there for days, then weeks, then gone.

In two months it’ll be 10 years since my dad died. The actual dad, but doesn’t deserve to have the title, dad. That guy. Funny, handsome, absent. I don’t know anything else. That sadness is different. It’s what I didn’t have and never will have. Not the actual loss of him but the loss of the I don't know... The mourning is so different. Anger? Confusion?

But, for both of them, it’s bigger than what I am missing or missed. It’s about what they missed – either in absence or in death. They are missing the amazing children that are here; the amazing kids that we were. Five grandchildren. Grade school to college. Successful. Smart. Funny. And, adorable, of course. Those five are missing out on a lot of fun and unsolicited advice. Missing out on sing-a-longs. Musical marathons. White Christmas. Singing in the Rain. And, of course, The Wizard of Oz.

For me, well, I’m missing out on bad car advice and lawn care tips.

I finally feel like I’m figuring out life at 40. I wonder sometimes what dad would think of where I am now. The direction I am headed. The decisions that I have made.

Then I remember that I’m not a kid. I am 40. And, as much as I’d like those lawn care tips, as the lawn looks like utter shit right now, I can figure it out.

I will figure it out. All of it.

Title winner.