Plastic Bag Stuck in a Tree

Hey there, plastic bag stuck in a tree. I noticed that you haven't gone anywhere in a while and you must be snagged pretty good. I'm sorry to say this, but I'm here to break your oath of silence while I break one of my own. You see, I'm finally alone, and I haven't really taken a minute to be alone in a while. 

I hope you're not cold up there. I'm cozy in a blanket on my new couch just enjoying this moment, but suddenly I realized that you've probably been watching me for some time now. I'm kind of a mess, but I'm slowly getting better. As my friend Gregg reminded me, recovery is a gradual process. Today I will just be low and start my climb up from here.

What am I supposed to do with these beautiful broken pieces? I'm told that when grief hits us we fall to pieces, but it's only when we fall to pieces that we can see how beautiful they are on their own. 

Insert: analogy of that form of Japanese pottery where broken pieces are put back together with gold.

It's you and me again, bag stuck in a tree. I think you're a Target bag. I've had hundreds of people write to me online and dozens call about my father, and currently I want nothing to do with them. I'd rather be here hanging out with you. 

I just want to be left alone and I feel terrible about it. When my father was passing, things got really rough upon his final days. It was a lot for my mother and I to deal with, but we handled it with grace and love. Now it's three days later (feels like a month) and I'm talking to a bag in a tree while curled up in blankets. 

I need some time, I guess, and I know deeply that I need something new to grab me by the soul. Maybe I'm looking for a book or something obvious, but maybe it's bigger than that. I just have to hold on and give my heart some time to heal.

 

Louis Ardagna

My father died this morning. 

Blue Stegosaurus

Where to begin? I'm sitting in the basement of my parents' house somewhere near the old entertainment center. I used to play video games here (the same ones I still play, but this is where I experienced them for the first time). Somehow it's my escape from all of this madness that is happening under this room.

My dad is dying. I don't know how to word that better. He's currently in a pre-active coma and cirrhosis has almost completely claimed his life. It's the most confusing thing ever, and it is unreal to even think about. I can't indulge myself by wondering what caused this because I am not sure we will ever find those answers.

My wife, my son and I moved back into this house about a week ago (feels like a year ago) to be with my mom and help take care of my ailing father. Mom and I are taking turns having a very hard time with this, but we are in strong agreement of how to take care of him. He's truly in good hands right now.

Salem gave Pop-pop a blue stegosaurus, and he hasn't let go of it since.

I can tell that mom has been downsizing in this house, but I guess I shrugged it off a bit. It's so empty in here compared to when I was younger. It's like she is getting ready to leave as soon as Dad passes, and I can't say I disagree with her about that. However, I'm sitting here in this dark corner of the basement remembering my childhood as if it were a movie I'll never be able to watch again. 

Somewhere inside of me there is a little boy version of myself that is very upset right now. It feels like I've been reading a really beautiful book, but peaked ahead to upcoming chapters and they were all blank, as if this is where my story with my father ends. That is such a painful feeling.

I'm frozen. I'm lost for words.

Hello, I'm a dinosaur

A few weeks ago we got a new couch and it came with huge cushions. Salem likes to play this game called 'mountain', and it's pretty self-explanatory. I love to watch him build forts and knock the walls down, but the coolest game we play is one called 'dinosaur eggs'. 

We pile Salem under a heap of couch cushions and every time he emerges as a different dinosaur. It's stinking adorable, and I'm writing about it in my old travel blog. I just wanted to take a moment to think about that fact.

I still talk to the roommates I had when I began my first blog. We're all on our own weird paths, but somehow I'm suddenly feeling this connection to those good old days. 

My dad is going though something rough, and it's been weighing on me heavily. Sometimes I feel like that little kid inside of me is hurting badly, and I'm selfishly worried that part of me is leaving. 

"Rarrrr, Hello! I'm a T-Rex! Rarrrr!"

Lately I've been wondering what this next chapter will bring. That's not true. Lately I've been trying to pay better attention to the path ahead of me, but I certainly don't want to ruin the surprise. I'm focused now, and part of that came from a recent decision to quit drinking. A good friend was really fired up about an upcoming trip to Boston and he was super pumped about how drunk everyone is going to get, but I'm in no mood at all to party. 

Minutes after hanging up the phone with him I quit drinking. That gave me an immediate boost, much like my decision to go vegan last year around my birthday. Now I'm on fire about something, and it's kept me much more centered. 

All day today I've been playing guitar and I have some brutal calluses forming from how much I've put into it these last few weeks. I think its pretty cliché to say, but music is very healing, and it has certainly helped me deal with the sadness I've been feeling. 

"Rarrr, Hello! I'm a Stegosaurus! Rarrr!" 

I feel much better now.

January 23

Hey Salem,

You're in the bath right now, giggling and talking to yourself about dinos. I love how chatty you are these days, and it's cool to have our first real conversations together. By the time you read this you'll probably think these things are silly, but in this special and sweet little time these little moments mean the world to me.

Daddy wasn't feeling too well this last few weeks because he was very worried about his own daddy. We are still in a time of uncertainty, and you are starting to ask questions about your grandfather that show deep and real concern. You know he's sick and you know he loves hugs.

You're getting big, my guy. You're a pretty tall dude, and I hope that works out well for you. You're kind and you don't freak out when other kids want to play with your toys. You asked for friends for Christmas last year, and it was the sweetest thing ever. I know you'll make lots of friends someday. 

Thanks for being so cool. You've been there for me so many times when I needed you. You were there for me when I broke my arm and you were there for me when grandpa got sick, and I'm here for you too. There are some scary things out there, and I'll be there for you no matter what. 

Thank you for the patience you teach me. Not patience with you but patience with myself. You make me realize how important the little things are, and how simple it can actually be to become part of life's truly beautiful flow. Because of you I feel connected to something ancient, something that is very natural, and maybe someday you'll feel that too. 

It sounds like you're almost done with your bath. I just wanted to say hi and tell you I love you very much.

Dad

Mozart

I'm learning Rondo alla Turca on guitar. It's rattling my brain in such a good way. Certainly I needed something like this, especially after looking back on that previous post. I get so nervous sometimes, and I know I'm good at keeping my nerves a secret. That doesn't mean I'm not feeling nervous. I feel fine now. Fine, but my brains are scrambled from Mozart.

Dad is getting a little better. I actually like watching after him more than I thought I would. A few days ago I shaved his face and it was a really special moment, probably for both of us. It has me thinking so much about this chain between my father and my son, and how I am somehow put in between two very strong forces in my life. I guess that's just life, being pulled and pushed from vastly different but equally important forces in our lives. 

Last Page

It's Sunday and it's also the last day of my break between semesters. During these last few weeks I've felt like I'm weeding a garden that has been unattended to for a bit too long. My dad's health has been my primary concern, and the fact that it takes me from my typical everyday concern about my son makes my head spin a bit. A few weeks ago I was sitting in a parking lot at an eye specialist to determine whether I had a serious eye condition (I don't, I'm fine), and I didn't even have a few moments to dwell on how scary that was. I was so caught up in work and life and everything else that I had lost track of things that should be obviously concerning. 

That scared me a little. So, I've been spending this time trying to form a new approach to the year 2023. I have a year's experience being a professor and nearly two and a half being a father. That means something great to me, and I think I often forget how scared I am to lose either of those roles. It's true. Being a father is terrifying. I think about death every single day. I'm afraid of the slightest irregularity in my body, but I have no other option besides continuing my journey through life as if calamity isn't lurking behind every corner. 

Okay, that was a bit much.

These are the last few paragraphs of the final chapter of 2022. Tomorrow I go back to work and try to navigate my way through daily life as if I wasn't feeling a heavy burden of existential anxiety. There I go again.  

I'm fine. When you put the pen in my hand these things start pouring out. I'm worried about my dad, and my son is growing up faster than they could have warned me about. I love them both so much, and I see myself as this chain between both of their worlds. I have some things I've never gotten over, and I think the time has come for me to carry on as if my armor wasn't so loose-fitting. Have you ever heard of imposter syndrome? 

They've got the wrong guy. I'm nobody. Wait a minute, no I'm not, I'm everybody. I'm everybody my son has ever known and everybody my father has ever made me. I have to be somebody, but I've never been sure if I'm anybody.

I really thought this would be a happy post, but I'm scared. There are so many things that I really wanted to have figured out before becoming a father, but I must not have been paying attention during that lecture. I should have taken better notes. But, you know what? I'm doing it anyway. Whoever I am, I am somebody who is stronger than the person they think they are. My son needs me, and I've never ever felt needed quite like I do now. 

Here's to chapter 2023. I've got a few scars now, but I've got this.