Kathy

My intention today was to fill in more of your birth story, but the present intruded today. This morning at about 2AM, one of your grandmothers, my step-mother, passed away. Instead of continuing on about you, I wanted to tell you a bit more about her.

My parents got divorced when I was about 8 or so. Not too long after that, Grampy started dating again. Remember all the times I've told you that you were charming, and that you got that from me? Well, I got it from him. I vaguely remember the first time we met Kathy. Dad had been dating a woman named Karen before that, and whether it was on purpose or not, your uncle Rick called Kathy by that name for a while. I remember her being graceful about it, correcting him each time.

Soon, Grampy and Kathy got married. Your uncle and I were in the wedding, standing up there at the front of a big church. I don't remember much of the wedding, to be honest...it's all kind of a blur. I do remember how happy Grampy was, though. There were a lot of questions being asked at the time. Wasn't this too soon? Why did he marry her? She was fairly young and didn't have kids herself at the time....could she handle two pre-teen boys? Those questions seem silly now, almost 35 years later.

It wasn't easy, however. She had to learn to handle her new job as mother, and as I've experienced myself, it's a difficult thing to try and come into a situation like that. Uncle Rick and I were still hurt from our parents divorce, and didn't do much to help her. In fact, we actively resisted her attempts to be a mother. I'll blame your uncle more than me, but I can't say that I did much to help myself. It was pretty tumultuous for a few years there. Your uncle Rick and Kathy fought almost every day. I'll never forget what Grampy told him that pretty much changed everything. I'm paraphrasing, but it went something like this: "If you force me to choose between you and her, I'm going to pick her. See, someday, you're going to leave, growing up and moving out to start your own life. I chose her, and she chose me...we're going to be together for life."

The fights didn't necessarily stop, but after that, your uncle knew it was 2 on 1...and those are long odds. I remember one fight where she threw a spoon at him and called him "serpent-mouth"...something we all laugh at now. When you're a kid, you don't understand how difficult it is to come into a ready-made family. It's a job that is almost impossible. She deserves so much credit for sticking it out, and making it work.

I don't want to make it sound like the fights were all between Kathy and uncle Rick, though. She and I didn't fight much, but I will never forget the one fight we did have. You've heard this one before. I was a HUGE Dungeons and Dragons nerd...I had almost every book. She watched the 700 Club, and at the time, there was a lot of what is now called the "Satanic Panic." The 700 Club said that D&D was devil worship...so while I was at baseball practice one day, she threw out all my D&D books. I cried, but she stood firm. It was our one big fight...I now have replaced them all, but I understand why she did it. She was trying to protect me, which is what a mother does.

The thing about your grandmother was that although she never claimed to be the smartest person in the world, she could probably lay claim to having one of the biggest hearts. She cared so much about everyone. When I took your step-mother to meet your grandparents for the first time, it was Kathy that made her feel welcome and part of the family. The first time I had the guys over to my parents house to play cards, it was Kathy that was offering them drinks and food. And when I got in my car accident, it was Kathy that was checking on me to make sure I was okay. After I moved out, it was Kathy that kept all the newspaper clippings, awards and so on. I didn't even know she had them until years later when she presented me with a scrapbook of my childhood. It was amazing.

She was also very creative. She could sew, do needlepoint, quilt...she loved all of that. There's really nothing more special that having an item that someone made for you, and I believe you have one of her quilts. Keep it, and treasure it. She poured her heart into that stuff, and it's a tangible reminder of what she loved.

She was proud to be a grandmother, and loved all her grandchildren. Although you didn't get to see her as much because you live here, and they live there, you should know that she was SO excited to see you for the first time. You were the first grandchild, and she loved you so very much.

Death is hard. Unfortunately, this is the second grandparent you've lost this year, and I know it's not an easy thing to understand. It doesn't get any easier when you're an adult, I'm sorry to say. She had a long illness, and sometimes, as hard as it is, it becomes more merciful to pass on than to try and keep fighting it. It doesn't seem fair...she was relatively young, and this illness came out of the blue. We want to understand why these things happen, and there just really isn't a good explanation. It's one of the hardest parts of being a human being. Seeing someone we love suffer, and then having to deal with the loss, just sucks. All we can do is do our best to enjoy the time we have, and remember the time we spent with people. It's never long enough, and it hurts like hell when they're gone, but remember it's temporary...we'll see her again. And she'll no longer be in pain, and we'll have all eternity to listen to her tells us stories...something else she loved to do.

As for me, although it hurts, I'm glad that she's no longer in pain. I appreciate everything she tried to do for me, even as I fought against it. She loved deeply, and I'm glad that she loved us. May she rest in peace...we'll miss you, Kathy.

Your birth day, part 1

As I alluded to in the last post, there's a story attached with your birth. Now obviously, you've heard a lot of this before. Hell, I've written about it before. But here I wanted to tell you all the parts that I left out before. It was the best, worst, and scariest time of my life, and it changed everything about me. You should know as much as I can remember.

Before we begin, a lesson. There will be a few of these coming up, so get used to it. Memory is unreliable. This is one thing you need to learn, and not forget (see what I did there?) There will come a day when you're having an argument with your significant other about something, and the crux of the argument will be that you both remember it different ways. No matter how right you think you are, remember this...your memory of something is not the same as the "truth." Not only does everyone experience things differently, your memory will 'fill in the gaps' and make it seem that you remember something, and you'll be wrong. So don't argue about the details...you probably have them wrong anyway.

I bring this up in case I screw up any of the details of this account. This is certainly the way I remember it, but who knows? If you hear something different, believe me...I'm not lying, I'm just wrong. But hopefully there's some value for you to see it through my eyes, even if we can't all agree on the details.

Wow, long post, and I haven't even really started yet! This one may get broken up into multiple parts. Anyway, let's begin. I won't bore you with all the details before you came into the picture...at least, not yet.

Let's start with some honesty. I really wasn't sure I wanted kids. I mean, I grew up always wanting a daughter, but by the time I became a teenager and saw the worry fathers of daughters had to go through (because of guys like me, no doubt,) I had changed my mind about that. I wanted a son. But when it came to it, I wasn't sure I was up for the job. I was worried that I would screw you up, that I would be a lousy father. I always thought my father was a great dad, and I wasn't sure I could uphold that standard. So when your mother said that it was now or never if we were going to have a kid, I was basically non-committal.

When a woman, such as your mother, decides she wants a baby, however, you're going to have a baby. She started the scheduling, planning the times we would be together based on her ovulation, all that jazz. I refused. Instead, I said listen, let's just 'pull the goalies', so to speak, and if God wants me to be a father, it'll happen. My thought was that there would be NO WAY God, in his infinite wisdom, would allow this to happen.

I was wrong (you'll hear this more than once, as well. Honesty, right?) Less than a month after we "didn't try but didn't prevent it, either" your mom was pregnant. And I didn't handle it all that well. I remember that she told me on a Sunday. I had slept in, and she waited for me to wake up. Once I was awake, she told me the news. I asked if she was sure...dumb question. Of course she was sure. While I overslept, she had taken two pregnancy tests. She was sure.

Here's another piece of advice for you. If you ever find yourself in this situation, the correct response is to tell her you love her and how happy you are. If you want to jump around, feel free. Excitement and optimism are key. What you DON'T want to do is respond with "I need to call my dad" and leave the room. That's a bad look.

Obviously, that's what I did. I called your grandfather and asked him how this could possibly happen. His response was that I knew how this happened...I had been there. And that I needed to calm down. Everything was going to be fine. What I needed to do at that moment was go be happy with your mother, and save the worrying for another day. Which I did. Just know this...despite my reaction, despite the shock, I was really happy that day. I didn't know then if you were a boy or a girl, if I'd screw you up or not, whether you'd be a good kid or an asshole...but I did know that there would be a part of me that would live on, and that I had changed the world. It's a pretty amazing feeling. But that's just the start.

To be continued....

Love, Dad.

New Title, New Direction

A few weeks ago, I saw the bookmark on my web browser for my blog. It had been a long time since I checked it out, even though it's always been right in front of me. I took a look at some of my old posts...some I really liked, some I find a bit embarrassing for one reason or another. I never really stopped writing, but I did stop publishing so much. I had a tendency to be a little too open with my thoughts, and that's not always a good thing...no need looking for trouble, you know.

But I did miss sharing, and I've always had an idea that I wanted to follow up on, but was just too lazy to do so. See, I have three sons...two older step-sons, and one younger son (I honestly don't know what to call him, other than my son...blood son? Genetic son? I'm not huge on labels anyway, and this one stumps me.) Anyway, the older boys were teenagers by the time I got to them, and although I've tried my best with them, they had pretty much already developed their own interests and thought about things...I mean, one is a Broncos fan, of all things!!

The youngest, however, is obviously a mini-me (although not that "mini" anymore.) We share a lot of the same interests, he acts a lot like I did at his age, he even talks like me. I'm fortunate enough that, because of our situation, I get at least an hour or so each week where it's just him and me in a car, so we talk a lot about different things, and it's fantastic.

I'm sentimental, though, and there are so many things I want to tell him that never seem to come up, and feel a little awkward when they do. Things that are boring, my thoughts on certain things, just my life. My hope is that someday, after I'm gone (hopefully not any time soon!), he will be able to read this and remember who I was. Maybe he'll learn something, maybe it'll remind him that I was a jerk, maybe he won't care but one of HIS kids will. I don't know. And maybe someone else will find it interesting as well...who knows? As always, I mostly write for me, and although this exercise is couched as letters to Jake, it's really "letters to myself that I'm sharing with Jake."

In the event that he does read this, however, and if I never make another post, I want to make sure this one thing is perfectly clear: I love you, Jake. I love all three of you boys, but there's always going to be something different about you because I've been there from the beginning. I remember the day I heard you were coming, I remember the first time I saw you on an ultrasound monitor, and I remember the first time I saw your face, no matter for how briefly (another story.) I've seen your successes, your failures, your frustrations and joys. You changed my life, and saved it. If you remember nothing else about me, remember this: I love you, son.

I know you're a bit sentimental yourself sometimes, so I'll try to make sure I don't end too many of these on a sappy note. But that message, more than anything else, I want to make clear. 

See you soon. Love, Dad.