A Long December

Bear with me, this post will be longer than usual.

“Interesting” doesn’t even begin to properly describe this whole month.

I don’t think I can ever remember in my life so many things happening in such a short time, and life in general swinging wildly from one extreme to another.  In particular, when my state of mind and emotions have swung so wildly from feeling lower than whale turds to on top of the universe, from so much stress about my life to a state of peace, that everything will turn out all right in the end, from feeling that I can’t do a damn thing right to save my life to realizing maybe I’ve done a whole lot more right than I give myself credit for.

So much for saving my uber-macho image (yeah right).  Think I just revealed too much mangina. Oh well, no turning back now, so enjoy.

For starters, I was in the midst of a deep depression beginning this month.  I was stressed about my oncoming job loss and move to Texas, worried about leaving my family, and very disturbed because I was feeling that something in me wanted to leave, to just get in the car and go and never look back.  That was the quitter part of me, the part that always wanted to jump ship when things got too tough and never mind the responsibilities.  Believe me, this is something I’m not proud of sharing, but it’s there and I have to fight it.  Even when I felt like a total loser because most of my kids were screwed up, and my marriage was slowly but surely sliding, and my mental state got to the point where I briefly considered the pros and cons of checking out for good, I decided that no matter what I had to stick it out to the end.  And maybe a brief time apart might be beneficial in the long run.

Our finances weren’t too good earlier this month, but at least they were slowly improving.  I had screwed things up to the point where I turned over complete control of the finances to my wife, including my debit card, just so I couldn’t dig our hole any deeper.  Voluntarily, I might add.  I didn’t want to touch our money anymore unless it was for necessities, like putting gas in my car.  So I subjected myself to the humiliation of always having to ask my wife for money and permission to spend it.

Yeah, I’ve never been big in the self-esteem department.  But earlier this month, it was as low as it’s been in years, since way back before my marriage and my family.  I had just hit forty, better than half my life gone, and could find very little about myself to look back on and be proud of.  I was looking forward to a dull, ho-hum holiday season, where I could indulge in my favorite pastime of unbridled laziness before the New Year forced me off my butt and back into the real world of employment and responsibilities.

Then Christmas came, and the miracles started happening.

First my severance kicked in earlier than I anticipated, leaving me with a parting paycheck about $1000 fatter than I had anticipated.  Which was well spent on both gifts and necessities, particularly making my car road-worthy.  The timing couldn’t have been better.

Yes Dear told me one thing she wanted more than anything this Christmas was to talk to our eldest daughter, who I will refer to as Panda Bear.  The one that we had a falling out with over a year ago.  Yes Dear wanted me to find out where she was, if she had married her boyfriend, if some people we knew that were trying to “protect” her would at least give me a phone number.

That gift I was ultimately able to deliver on.  With extras neither one of us had dreamed about.

Not only were we able to meet with Panda Bear, her husband, and the baby, but we found out that they had been trying to get back in contact with us for the past few months.

So we got our biggest Christmas miracle.  The gift of being grandparents.  And of reconciliation with a loved one.

And I got the feeling that maybe we were being given a second chance.  That even though we may have let down our kids, we would be allowed to be a part of our grandson’s life.  That we may be able to do right with him the things we couldn’t with his mom.  Or her sister and brother.

Now fast forward to last night.

Anyone familiar with Mormon culture will know that we all are assigned families in the ward who we watch over.  Nothing creepy, just to visit and offer a spiritual thought, as well as to help take care of any needs, trivial or serious, that the families may need.  This is what we call home teaching.  And the one family that I’ve been assigned to the longest probably makes easily three times what I do.  So what on earth could I ever offer them, to a family that has all it needs and plenty to spare?

Apparently quite a bit, as I discovered last night.

Of course, the primary conversation was centered around my imminent departure.  This wasn’t surprising, since our family had known them for so long and both Yes Dear and I had worked with them and their kids in various capacities the past ten years.  I tried to deflect some of it and ask about their family and how their Christmas was, since my duty was to focus on them, not on myself.  But they wouldn’t let it up.  And they wouldn’t let up about how wonderful our Christmas miracle was.

They invited me to join them for family prayer.  I told them how much I loved their family and would miss them. Then the goodbyes started.

The whole family lined up to give me a hug, including the kids.  I offered their eldest, fourteen years old, a way out of potential embarrassment by giving him a choice between the handshake and the hug.  After a brief hesitation, he made his choice.  Hugs for him.

Then I was given a card by the whole family.  And three homemade ones by each of the kids.

Really afraid of losing my composure, I said goodbye and retreated to the safety of the car.  Halfway home, I pulled off into a parking lot to read them.

The family card thanked me for all my visits (and the M&M’s I’d always bring for the kids), and told me what a fabulous example I had served to their family , and how much they looked up to me.

Amazing.  And they haven’t a clue as to how little I think of myself sometimes.

But what finally broke me was the cards from the kids.  Particularly from their middle son, who just turned twelve.  This one quote from his letter completed the kill:

“In scouts, I look up to you as a leader, and I still will even when your about a thousand miles away.”

By the way, that particular kid I’ve mentioned on this blog a few times before.  He is known here as Maverick, one of my original Top Gun Crew of Boy Scouts.  The kid that nearly got killed on my watch last year, almost ending my stint as an assistant scoutmaster, yet he and his parents still kept faith in me.

So maybe all along, I’ve been doing something right after all.

Before I end this obscenely long post, I’d like to wish all my readers a Happy New Year.  And thank those that stop by here from time to time and pay attention to my ramblings, and inspire me to keep blogging.  Especially those that are in my little blogroll, and a few that I’ve been too lazy to add.  And below the fold, a picture of the latest addition to The Real Dave’s family.  Go ahead, have a peek.

The Real Grandson (that's The Real Dave's hand tickling his foot)

~ by The Real Dave on December 31, 2008.