There’s so much sadness, pain, and loss in just six words.
Thought about that the other day as I cleaned out some more of Alison’s things.
Every year or so, I toss some things of hers that I finally make peace with.
In this latest episode, found three shirts that Alison and I were excited to wear one day; grey shirts with a graphic of a black bear on the chest, each one with a single word on the bear:
Papa
Mama
Baby
Think we got them as a gift. Don’t remember.
We never got to try them on.
Everything went to shit too fast.
The Firecracker, because she saw how distressed I was and is just awesome, gave them away for me.
I was in my head all day and all night.
Alison never got to wear anything like that.
I never got to wear anything like that.
And now, we never will.
Her: Are you ok? Me: For the purposes of this conversation, I’ll say I am. Her: But you’re not? Me: (deep breath) For the purposes of this conversation, I’ll say I am. I just need a sec. Her: (nodding) I’ll take care of these this for you and drop them off at Goodwill. Me: Thank you.
Location: the basement of my brain (again)
Mood: waiting to be okay (again)
Music: This feeling never leaves me (Spotify) Subscribe! Like this post? Tell someone about it by clicking a button below.
But, as the years go on, I find myself at them more and more often.
One of our core group’s parents passed away the other day.
Him: Can you make it? Me: Of course I’ll be there.
So, we all met up and went to the funeral together.
One guy drove in all the way from Virginia just to pay his respects.
After a spell, we stepped out to get a drink…
…before heading out for food.
The details aren’t in my story to tell, so lemme pivot and just tell you that I count myself quite lucky that I have these people in my life.
You never really think of the value of good friends when you’re a kid and only realize it when the time comes to need good friends.
Him: Logan – always thinking of food. Me: This is, sadly, so very true.
I have a running joke with the fellas where, no matter how many times I’m invited out, I always say, “I’m finally invited to something!”
Been doing that for over 30 years with them but the reason I say that is that I’m genuinely always happy to just be included.
As a kid growing up with zero friends, it’s nice that to belong somewhere.
What is life if not looking for where we belong? Who our tribes are?
And the tribe always shows up when needed.
Couldn’t stay the whole night because I had to get the kid from a school event, but it was so good seeing everyone, despite the circumstances.
Me: (to buddy that came from Virginia) You gotta come up more often than once every 20 years. Him: I’ll come back. Me: Yeah, please. Under much better circumstances.
Me: I just wanted to say thank you for working with me for this past year. Therapist: Logan! You think we’ve only been talking for a year? You mentioned looking forward to your date with the Firecracker, and that was at least 20 months ago. Me: I cannot be trusted with things related to time these days.
I had my first therapy session with my therapist, Kymberly, on 2021.06.03.
She was the third regular therapist I had but the one that I’ve seen the longest and most consistently.
That’s for a buncha reasons: On the practical side, my insurance covered alla it and I could do alla my sessions at home on Zoom.
On the personal side, I knew I needed to talk to a professional, but I suppose that I didn’t realize just how much I needed to talk to one.
The first few sessions were not great as I was pretty belligerent, but she stuck with me and I her.
As time passed, I began to notice that I was less angry – still angry, just less so.
Me: There’s this joke I heard once where a man says to the other, “What would you say if I gave you a million dollars but only on the condition that the person you hate most gets two million?” And the second man replies, “Of course, why wouldn’t I want three million dollars?” Her: You hate yourself? Me: More than anyone, sometimes. (thinking) It’s a good joke, though.
Chad once said he felt that I was clinging on to a wrong relationship with a death grip because I’d lost so much already and was loathe to lose anything else.
Think that was the most accurate and sage thing he ever said.
With the passage of time, and Kymberly’s help, I was able to accept my new reality, though.
Me: Losing Alison and my dad was a bit like losing a leg. I know I’ll never be complete again, and I’ll always remember the days when I had them both here as my happiest. I know I can be happy again, I just also know that it won’t be the same because I will never be the same. Her: But this version of Logan can be happy, can’t he? Maybe not the same as before, different, but still good? Me: I suppose that’s the hope.
Unfortunately, she’s moving to a different office and one that doesn’t take my insurance. So, we have to part ways, at least for now.
She was a good therapist – and I’m well enough now, a good deal thanks to her, that I’m not in a rush to replace her.
Thanks, doc.
I’m feeling much better now.
Her: I like that analogy of your losing a leg. But, I think you can be happy again. If you’re nicer to yourself. Me: I’ll try. It’s not easy, but I’m gonna try. I’ll never be happy like I was when Alison and my dad were still alive. But…it’d be nice to be happy again.
Every so often, I’ll hear a song, and it’ll feel as if it was written just for me.
To wit, here’s a song called Decide to be Happy by a band called Misterwives.
There are several lines that I feel I’ve said here myself in some manner or another:
Been feelin’ like a stranger in my body. I haven’t been myself in a while, I’m sorry.
Got to decide to be happy ‘Cause it don’t always come naturally.
…because I’ve been on my knees so much since you’ve known me.
You know what?
Here’s the whole song and alla the lyrics – it’s worth a listen, I think.
Music, it saved me
But it drives me crazy
‘Cause it forces my eyes, to take a look and see
Got to decide to be happy
‘Cause it don’t always come naturally
Been feelin’ like a stranger in my body
I haven’t been myself in a while, I’m sorry (I’m sorry)
Got to decide to be happy (happy)
‘Cause it don’t always come naturally
‘Cause flowers, don’t grow without the rain
And goodness, don’t grow without the pain
Flowers, don’t grow without the rain
Goodness, don’t grow without the pain
I’ve been down on my knees
Prayin’ things I don’t believe
Hopin’ that it’ll save me
So I decide to be happy
I’ve been down on my knees
Prayin’ things I don’t believe
Hopin’ that it’ll save me
So I decide to be happy
My mind, it can be a scary place at times
So I hide under my bed and close all the blinds
And I cry (and I cry)
And I cry (and I cry)
Waste the day away, so I turn on the lights
And I search for a sign or a rhyme or a reason
Why I’m unsteady as the seasons
‘Cause flowers, don’t grow without the rain
And goodness, don’t grow without the pain
Flowers, don’t grow without the rain
Goodness, don’t grow without the pain
I’ve been down on my knees
Prayin’ things I don’t believe
Hopin’ that it’ll save me
So I decide to be happy
I’ve been down on my knees
Prayin’ things I don’t believe
Hopin’ that it’ll save me
So I decide to be happy
If you’re happy and you know it, clap your hands
If you’re sad and you know it, well now’s your chance to dance
If you’re happy and you know it, clap your hands
If you’re sad and you know it, well now’s your chance to dance
Well now’s your chance to dance, now’s your chance to dance
(Now’s your chance to dance, now’s your chance to dance)
I’ve been down on my knees
Prayin’ things I don’t believe
Hopin’ that it’ll save me
So I decide to be happy
I’ve been down on my knees
Prayin’ things I don’t believe
Hopin’ that it’ll save me
So I decide to be happy
Location: not where you might expect; a tiny room with the kid practically on top of me
Mood: soooooooooo sick – you would not believe how sick I am
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The other thing about my dad/family was something else that I also learned in Cornell: When I took my first Chinese language class, the teacher asked how to say “maternal grandmother” in Chinese.
I confidently said, “阿婆 (ā pó)” but was corrected, it was “外婆 (wàipó).”
I’d never heard of 外婆 (wàipó) before, we never used that term nor had I ever heard it before.
Me: I was so embarrassed that I got that wrong. Why didn’t we use the right way of saying it for [mom’s mom]? Father: Do you know what 外婆 means? It means “outside grandmother.” That’s what you call the wife’s mother because, in Chinese culture, the mother’s family and side doesn’t count – they’re outsiders and not really part of the family. That’s wrong, I think, and offensive. Your mom’s family is as much a part of our family as mine is.
For all my dad’s traditions and pressure, he was a decent and fair man and that story perfectly encapsulates him.
It was a simple but profound thing, which makes sense as he was both a simple and profound man.
And I think that a major reason the three of us – my sister, brother, and myself – have been so successful in life.
Moreso than the education and the accolates.
Because I suppose we always knew that, no matter what, our parents loved us and always would.
Yeah, if there’s one thing that I’d like to pass on from my dad to my own kid, it’s that.
My dad died August 24th, 2017, seven years ago this week.
I love him every bit right now as I did seven years ago and always will.
Even though, at times, I wonder if he knew.
Me: (angrily) Yeah, well, you wait. My kid is gonna be successful and happy. It won’t matter to me if he goes to an ivy league or not. Him: You’re threatening me with a happy and successful grandkid? (laughing) Go ahead. Because that’s exactly what I want too. When you’re a dad yourself, you’ll understand. I’m trying to keep you all safe.
And, of course, I totally care if he makes it into an ivy league or not.
Just maybe – maybe – not quite as much.
Did you know that no two tigers have the same stripes?
A tiger’s pattern is as unique as human fingerprints AND not only is a tiger’s fur striped, but its skin is also striped as well.
It has hidden beauties you wouldn’t know about while it was alive.
This also means that every tiger is different from every other tiger, despite all outward appearances.
My dad may have been Chinese, but he was so different in many ways and uniquely mine.
I wish he was still here.
But I suppose you already knew that.
The picture above is the day my parents met my son.
It’s one of only a handful of pictures I have with all three of them.
The main picture is another of the few – precious – images I have of my father with my son.
I have none with him, Alison, and my son. Zero fucking pictures.
Not a single goddamn one.
And everything went to shit after that picture.
But, for a moment in time, that was the happiest I ever was because my entire family was alive and happy for five days.
I didn’t yet know that would be all I would ever get. Ever.
In the red bag that my mom brought to me while I was in Flushing was my Junior High School yearbook, that my sister found and told her to get to me.
The reason I was thrilled to get it was for one reason and one reason alone – I wanted to figure out the name of my English teacher.
See, the most influential teacher I had was a Ms. Meltzer and for years I always meant to find her and let her know that, but life got in the way.
Plus, I had no idea what her first name was.
But with the yearbook, I immediately looked for her and was disappointed to find that it only had her first initial was “B” and that led me – well, really, the Firecracker to a search and we found “Binnie Meltzer’s” obituary.
I’m certain it was her.
It made me both happy and sad; happy in that I found her, in a manner of speaking, and – of course – sad that I was too late.
She died in 2006. A lifetime ago.
She was the first teacher that I was always happy to see and that made me think that I had any type of talent for anything at all.
If she was still alive, I woulda told her what a profound and positive influence she was on me – I write because she told me once that I was a good writer and I believed her.
That’s the power of a good teacher.
Goodnight, Ms. Meltzer.
You were an amazing teacher and human, and I’m forever grateful we met.
On a much more mundane note, because of alla my injuries, my sleep’s been crap lately, so the Firecracker suggested that I get some nature – well, as much nature as NYC provides.
To that end, we had a little picnic in Central Park near Sheep’s Meadow, which was pretty great, I gotta say.
Her: Honestly, this is all I really need. My person, a picnic, a park, and my pup. Me: I could do without onea those things. Her: Oh, stop…
Location: supermarket for tea, which I forgot to buy despite it being WHY I WENT IN THE FIRST PLACE
Mood: annoyed at myself
Music: I got an open mind so, tell me where you wanna go (Spotify) Subscribe! Like this post? Tell someone about it by clicking a button below.
I was just born in this picture. My kid wore what I was wearing here as well. Maybe someday, I’ll show it to you.
Mom: Your dad’s been gone seven years. Can you believe it? Me: Not really. It feels like it was just a couple of years ago. Her: (repeating) Seven years. Not easy, is it? Me: No. He woulda loved seeing [the kid]. Her: Yes. That’s your dad. Me: (nodding)
Location: at a school performance, waiting for the kid to arrive
Mood: impressed
Music: Where are all the gods? (Spotify) Subscribe! Like this post? Tell someone about it by clicking a button below.
The kid and I were walking up Broadway the other day and someone dropped an entire jar of pickles on the ground and no one batted an eye.
Everywhere I look, things are a mess or broken.
Everything is chaos and atrophy.
Or, at least, I’m noticing it more these days.
Probably because I’m a broken mess and my mind is all chaos and atrophy.
Alison died exactly seven years ago.
How is that even fucking possible?
Me: I realized something the other day: I may live another 40, 50 years. All that time without Alison. Therapist: And how does that make you feel? Me: (thinking) Pretty empty. Then again, these past seven years seemed to dash by. Her: (at the end of the session) Are you ok? Me: Yeah. It’s fine. I cry all the time. Her: This is the first time you’ve cried in one of our sessions. Me: Is that right? Well, I cry all the time. (shaking head) These years have gone by so fast.
Suppose life will be over before I know it.
It’s hurts to know that I’m gonna end up being an old man one day, and she never got that chance.
I’ve always wished it was me and not her.
Think I always will.
Editor note: I’ll be taking a mental health day for Sunday/Monday, so I’ll post again on Tuesday night.
This entry is out of order; back to the regular nuthin in the next entry.
The Firecracker’s dad came into town this weekend and we met up with him on Saturday for a kid’s birthday party.
It was fine for the most part but then a parent snapped at my kid when he tried to break a piñata with his foot when it fell down – like an 8 year old kid understands why whacking a piece of cardboard with a stick is ok but kicking it isn’t – and destroyed him in front of all the other kids.
It pretty much set the mood for the rest of the weekend for us.
He’d never cried at a birthday party before and, of course, it had to happen during the weekend of Mother’s Day and his mom’s birthday.
Obviously, there’s no way for the other parent to have known that.
If it wasn’t for the fact that she couldn’t have known and that she was a mom, I woulda been arrested.
Still, he was fine after a spell because I raised him to be resilient, but – man – I was steamed.
Him: She said I did it on purpose, but I didn’t. I was trying to help. (sadly) I’m the worst kid. Me: Don’t ever say that. She doesn’t know you at all. You’re the best kid mom or I could ever ask for. Him: Really? Me: Honest and for true.
We then went to have dinner with the Firecracker’s family at a local taco joint that I’d been to before and then called it a night.
The next morning, despite it being Mother’s Day, the Firecracker got up bright and early to make her family and us a killer brekkie with a baked blueberry and apple oatmeal dish and a baked fritatta with feta and bacon.
The oatmeal bar
My kid liked it so much, he asked for seconds of everything and also asked for more the next day.
God, I love that kid – he’s just like me where we eat our feelings.
We all chatted at my place for hours until we had to meet up with the ABFF for dinner and to remember Alison.
This was probably the worst birthday/Mother’s Day yet for the kid because he feels the loss now.
Being humiliated and yelled at a birthday party probably didn’t help matters.
It was the hardest one for me for a while because it hit the kid so hard.
Him: (looking up at the ballon) How do we know she’ll get it? Me: We hope. Him: (nodding) I hope she knows I miss her. Me: She knows. I’m sure she knows
I was in my local supermarket when I ran into one of the cashiers, Lucy, in the produce section.
Her: (walking up to me holding a cup of coffee and put it down) I understand now. About your wife. My…my husband died. Me: What?! Good god, I’m so sorry. Her: (nodding) He was sick for a while. I thought he would be ok but…he didn’t let me know how bad it was. Me: (putting down groceries and giving her a hug) I’m so sorry. We’re never ready, are we? Her: (shaking head) No. I didn’t think he would go.
I went home, got a red envelope, stuffed a few bucks into it and went back to give it to her.
Her: No, no, I’m fine, really. Me: (gently) I’m sure you’re fine. This is just for lunch. Make sure you eat, ok? Her: (taking it) OK. Thank you. Me: I wanna tell you that it’ll be ok. It won’t be. But you have to keep telling yourself that it will be. After a while, it’ll be kinda ok.
The rest is her story to tell but I was in my own head for a while after that.
Then, I was walking with the kid and he turned to me said the most profound thing:
Flowers may bloom again, but a person never has the chance to be young again.
Assume he learned it in Chinese class (花有重开日，人无再少年) because he certainly never learned it from me.
But then…
Him: Flowers come back. Why can’t mommy come back? Me: I dunno. I dunno. Him: I wish she would come back. Just once. Just for a day, even. (trailing off). She can’t come back, not even for one day? Just one day? Me: Man, if only, kid. If only…
My kid’s a lot more mature than other kids his age. Sometimes, I think of him like he’s a little man.
Dunno if this is a good thing or not. I’m thinking not.
Wish he was just a kid without alla this weight on him.
It’s too much weight for a little kid like him to carry.
Don’t want a little man. Not yet.
Just want him to be a little kid for a little bit longer.
Location: On West End Avenue, finding myself at a loss for words
Mood: contemplative
Music: been gone far too long (Spotify) Subscribe! Like this post? Tell someone about it by clicking a button below.
