ABFF: Do you still want to keep tradition of dinner on Alison’s birthday? There’s no pressure on that – as [the kid] gets older, I totally get that he may not want to do it, or you may do something else, or… Me: Yes, please. We’ll be there.
As we’ve been doing for the past several years, we went to ABFF’s place on Alison’s actual birthday.
ABFF asked me if I wanted to do it again this year, which I found surprising because I’m always grateful whenever someone wants to celebrate or remember Alison.
So, Sara, both kids, and I went.
We picked up a bottle of wine and had some pizza and Italian food, because that’s what the kid wanted.
And this day is really all about the kid and Alison.
And finished off the night with a Carvel ice cream cake, which also reminded me of my uncle.
ABFF: Do you remember the whale? Me: Yeah, what was the name of it? Her: I don’t remember. (later) Wait, Fudgie! Me: Yes! Fudgie the Whale!
This time around, we didn’t do anything like the balloons or anything like that, because the kid always takes it so hard.
This time around, Alison was in the background, which I think is good, because thinking too much about her – for the kid and me – is a bit like staring into the sun.
It’s too much to take for too long so we turn away.
I also wanted to say that I think it says volumes about Sara that she always comes to support us and is always just a great presence there.
Can’t tell you how grateful I am that she’s in our lives.
Dunno how I managed to do it, but I’ve really met some amazing and wonderful people in my life.
Heard this quote once that went something like, “There’s no such thing as a long road with good company.
My sister said something to me once, in reference to Alison, when she turned a major milestone birthday:
Growing older is a privilege, not everyone gets the chance.
I’m getting older with every entry.
Hard to believe I started this blog almost 20 years ago – some people that started reading me 20 years ago are still here, which I’m eternally grateful for.
When I met her early on, we traded dating stories, as I always did with people I started dating.
She told me once that she went with her sister to a blind/speed date thingy and it was packed with very average guys and almost no women.
When the few women that were there saw the pickings, they all left, leaving just Alison and her sister there with dozens of dudes.
But they both stayed because they didn’t want to absolutely crush all the remaining people there.
Me: Well, you coulda just left. Alison: I couldn’t do that, Logan. You should have seen how sad everyone looked. Me: So, you stayed there for hours just because you didn’t want to hurt a bunch of strangers’ feelings? Her: (puzzled) Yeah, Logan.
That was her in a nutshell – always thinking of others. Always.
I didn’t fall for her because I thought she was beautiful – which she was – but because she was so unfailingly kind.
She was such a good person.
The kinda girl you’d wanna start a family with.
Because she was built to love and take care of people.
That’s why it guts me that she’s gone.
The world is so much worse off that someone as good as her is not here and someone as misanthropic as I am, remain.
Here’s hoping I can still make the kid as good a human as she was.
Him: (softly) Mommy’s not here so…can I just give this to you? (quieter) I got a flower too. Me: I love it, thanks! Him: I’ll still give you something for Father’s Day, papa. Me: Sweet! You’re the best. I love you like a fat kid loves cake.
I noticed that he didn’t write “Happy Mother’s Day,” in the valentine heart on the card above.
Instead he wrote, “Happy, Happy, Happy” because…well, you know…
So, I took the card on behalf of Alison, gave him a hug and kiss, put him to bed, and waited until I could shower to cry for a little bit.
Like I do every year.
Goodnight and Happy Birthday, Alison.
We miss you terribly.
Location: uptown, with the ABFF, Sara, and the kid, looking at a picture of Alison that showed up on the ABFF’s digital picture frame and thinking she looked happy
Mood: melancholy
Music: the stars, look how they shine for you (Spotify) Subscribe! Like this post? Tell someone about it by clicking a button below.
You should know that all my best lines I stole from people I loved.
But that’s neither here nor there.
Thought about that recently because Alison’s grandmother died the other day.
That’s Alison up above with her grandfather, Sal, and grandmother, Rose – they were celebrating Alison’s brother’s return from the army.
I’m super annoyed that bottle’s in front of Alison’s face.
You never know what little things are going to be big things until long after the fact.
In any case, Sal died some 13 years ago, and I wrote about it here.
Alison took it pretty hard, but I was glad that I was there to keep her company through that.
He and I got along great because we both liked Dean Martin and, oddly, sardines. It’s funny what people talk about.
I liked Rose a lot too. Probably one of my favorite memories with her is when I once drove out to Staten Island with Alison about a decade-and-a-half ago to celebrate Sal’s birthday.
Rose had to walk by herself in the rain, so I stepped out to steady her, and she immediately took my arm as if we’d done it a million times before.
Felt like part of the family that day.
Well, that’s not entirely true.
I suppose that I have such affection for Alison’s family because they’ve always treated me like a member of the family, even early, early on.
All of them did – even A-SIL and I kinda bickered like siblings since we met.
Now everyone in that picture above is gone and I feel so deeply for Alison’s mother, that she’s lost so much.
Then again, life is loss – it’s all about the spacing.
But even there, she’s gotten the short end of the stick.
Still, that’s her story to tell and not mine so I’ll stop here.
As much as I feel sadness that Rose and Sal are gone, they lived good long lives.
Alison didn’t, and that’s forever going to eat at me – the unfairness of it all.
And, of course, I think of my father and my mother and how I wish…so many things.
I always tell myself to see my mom more often, but life keeps getting in the way.
No excuse, I know, and yet, it is.
I’ll call her tonight. Or tomorrow.
I will. Honest and for true.
Goodnight, Rose.
If there’s an afterlife, I hope you and Sal are catching up and you’re telling him about all the madness happening around here.
And tell Alison that we all miss her terribly.
So…terribly.
Him: Would she like that I play soccer and the guitar…you think? Me: I think she’d love it, kiddo. No, I know it. I know she’d love it.
Him: (after meeting the Firecracker) You have a type. Me: (shrugging) It’s not so much that as there are certain traits in a partner that I value. And the partner that I would pick to be my “until-death-do-you-part” partner would have the most of those things because I value those things.
The Firecracker isn’t Alison, but they have a lot in common – far beyond both being blondes with coloured eyes.
This shouldn’t be surprising because I seek certain things, just like everyone else does.
For example, they’re both female, which makes sense, as I like females. They’re both unwaveringly kind. They both liked that I cooked and I liked that they both cleaned.
Who’s the ultimate example of your tribe if not your partner?
And if your partner isn’t the ultimate example of your tribe, why isn’t s/he, and why would you be with her/him then?
Firecracker: Are you happy? Me: (thinking) Yes. But it’s complex.
This fella named Oliver Sacks once said:
When people die they cannot be replaced. They leave holes that cannot be filled, for it is the fate – the genetic and neural fate – of every human being to be a unique individual, to find his own path, to live his own life, to die his own death.
Yeah.
And when someone leaves your Venn diagram, they take with them that unique space in your life that only he or she coulda occupied.
So, I have a hole in my soul the shape of my dad that was carved out once he died.
My father, Alison, my grandmother – they were all my wonderful things.
So, when the Firecracker asks me something like, “Are you happy?” The answer is yes.
But, imagine that you lost your left arm seven years ago. And in those seven years, beautiful and terrible things happened, because, that’s how life is.
Assume that you’re lucky and the beautiful things far outnumber the terrible things.
I’d assume you’d be happy.
But you’ll never be as happy as you would have been if you got a chance to enjoy those wonderful things AND still have your left arm.
Except, it’s not just your left arm. It’s your right hand as well.
And other bits and pieces of your body soul.
As happy as you could possibly be, you’ll never be as happy as you could have been sine qua non/but for the losses.
That’s the truest answer for the Firecracker’s question and it’s something that I’m acutely aware of for my son.
Because, as happy as he’ll be, as good as a parent as I could possibly be, he’ll forever miss having his mother raise and love him.
He’ll forever be missing something most people, myself included, take for granted.
And my heart aches as to the truth of that statement.
Because we met after she’s lived decades of her life and the purpose of life is to wear you down.
She too has injuries that she bears so that, as happy as she might be with me, those injuries remain. But that’s her story to tell.
I know that I can make the years the Firecracker and I have together as happy as I can.
But I also know that there are things that I can’t do because we all have those holes in our souls in the shape of the people and things we’ve loved and lost.
I like to think that, it’s not so much that I’ll die one day, so much as it is that I’ll have so many holes in my soul that, one day, they’ll be too many for me to go on.
I’m 39 in this picture above and the main one.
My friend Nadi took them while we were having dinner one night.
Life was perfect at that moment.
At that moment: My clients are awesome, and my career is taking off. My dad is alive. I’m happy and laughing with friends. And she’s alive and we’re about to start a family. Three kids. Suburbs.
Alla that.
A year after that picture: Alison and I lost our first pregnancy. It was the start of a winter of sadness and pain that I wouldn’t have believed possible for anyone to survive.
Nonea that.
But, in that moment, I was happy because I didn’t know how fucked up life could – and would – become.
The next day, we took the bullet train back to Taipei for our last full day in Taiwan.
The Firecracker’s kid is into trains, so we stopped off at a train museum for him first and then headed back to our hotel to crash.
Unfortunately, this was our first dud hotel outta the four we stayed at because they were doing construction on the floor above us.
Me: Welp, I guess we should go check out the Grand Hotel then.
The Grand Hotel Was the one tourist attraction that the Firecracker really wanted to see before we left, so we grabbed a car there.
She was not disappointed.
It’s the showcase hotel of Taiwan, built in 1952 to resemble a Chinese palace and meant to impress foreign dignitaries.
It certainly impressed us.
I’d actually gone to a summer program in the valley below it in my 20s but never went inside myself.
Afterward, we went to the night market that I was most looking forward to seeing, the Shilin Night Market, which is the one that I spent the most time at in my 20s.
In a stroke of good luck and coincidence, my other cousins on my mom’s side just happened to be in town with my aunt.
They’re the kids of my uncle that passed from COVID a few years back in Jersey, so it was doubly good to see everyone.
We met up with them at a bar there and my aunt gave us all red envelopes to celebrate both our being there and our getting married.
Me: That’s so generous of you, thanks so much! Her: Of course, we’re just glad we can all be here.
We ate pretty much everything in sight.
I ended up having to use the facilities and went into the mall area where a scantily clad woman called out to me in English, “Hi, Mister – are you feeling lucky!?”
I’m fairly confident this was in reference to some carnival games she was hawking.
Firecracker: She said what?! Me: “Hi, Mister – are you feeling lucky!?” Now the thing is, why would she say that to me in English? Like, you weren’t there, how did she know that I wasn’t Chinese-Chinese? Her: Did you talk to her?! Me: I’m not crazy, baby! Her: Smart man, smart man…
Do have to say, found that interesting throughout the whole trip: People would automatically try to speak English to me, even if the kids and the Firecracker weren’t with me.
I have to think it was how I was dressed?
Never did figure that out.
In any case, after we couldn’t possibly eat anything else, we all went our separate ways; we just hit our hotel and crashed hard.
The next morning, after filling up on brekkie – we made our way to the airport.
It was actually the first time I took the new railway from Taipei to the airport.
It was great because I got to see more parts of Taipei/Taiwan that I’d not seen before.
This pic really does capture the place – so much development, all happening at once, with urbanization creeping into the mountains and natures I’m familiar with.
The trip back was much better than the trip there.
Once again, we stopped off in Korea, but this time, I remembered a lot more of it.
And the kid finally got to see a 3D billboard – something he’d been wanting to see the entire trip.
Everyone managed to fall asleep on the plane ride back.
Everyone but me that is.
Actually, I might’ve as well but I’m not completely sure. My mind gets fuzzy when I travel.
The kid just tossed a sheet over his head and called it a night – he takes after his mom and my dad and can sleep anywhere.
Once we landed in NYC, the Firecracker had to bring her kid to her ex’s, so my kid and I took a cab home.
It was an even C-note to get back to our pad from JFK, which was both surprising and also, not.
Me: Welp, it looks like we’re home. What are you in the mood for? Him: Pizza? Me: Done. Welcome back home, kiddo. Him: Welcome back home, papa. That was fun. But it’s nice to be home. Me: Yeah, kid. There’s no place like home.
In any case, I took my buddy out for a drink over the weekend and just heard his (and his mom’s) story, which I’ll end here because it’s not mine to tell.
Me: This is why alcohol was invented, man.
The second was the opposite.
My own mom turned a milestone birthday, one that I’m grateful she was able to reach.
My sister came up with the brilliant plan to have many of our relatives from all over – including Taiwan – to video call her at the same time and wish her well.
As an aside, I usually put up pictures that don’t include my kid sister and only include my brother and me because, by the time she was born, I was already a fatty-fat-fat.
Anywho, getting back to my mom and the video call, she’s not one for pomp and circumstance but I could tell she was touched by the gesture.
I know that, at some point, I will have to go through what my buddy is going through and I’m not – at all – prepared for it.
Don’t think we’re ever prepared to say goodbye to the people we’ve loved so long and so completely.
Ok, that’s my sister when she came home from the hospital. I can put pics of her up so long as I’m not in them.
When I think of my mom, the faces you see above is the face I always see in my head when I think of her.
She’ll always be that young and beautiful to me.
I wish everyone we love can always stay.
Doubt that I’m alone in this.
But that’s not the deal, and we have to accept it, however hard it is.
Me: Even I have to go someday. Him: But…what if you don’t, papa? Me: That’s the deal, kid. We all have to go at some point so someone else gets a chance. Him: (hopefully) But maybe it’ll be different for you. Me: (laughing) Ok, kid. Maybe. We’ll just have to wait and see. Go do your math.
Her: What are you writing about? Me: Peter. Her: Oh, did you know him well enough to write about him? Me: Well, his life is his story to tell. I’m just gonna write about my life and his role in it.
Pausing the usual nuthin again.
Almost exactly 17 years ago, I wrote about my buddy Mike, who was a regular in my kali class.
Older fella, I still remember that Mike had a six-pack at 65+.
Mike was the first guy that I knew as a friend that died.
Unfortunately, he wasn’t the last.
Mike died before social media so I’ve forgotten what he looks like.
But he was my friend, and I miss him.
Peter Moretti was like Mike in that he would always come to class and be a bit confused and not get certain moves because, like Mike, he was older.
But he never stopped coming and never stopped trying to be better.
This is him just a few days before he died.
His dedication, plus his incredibly easy-going and kind nature, was how I always saw him.
His Facebook feed was/is fulla things like him feeding birds like woodpeckers and ducks.
After knowing Peter a few years, I found that he was a karate instructor and fighter who could do things that I only dreamed about being able to do.
In fact, he just posted a buncha photos of himself as a young man two days before he died.
I realize now that Mike and Peter are essentially me.
They were both skilled and dangerous fighters that were once in peak physical shape.
But time takes its toll on alla us.
I figure that, in a few years, I’ll be the guy that people have to help with certain moves or things.
And they too will be surprised that I was once anything but an older fella.
In any case, I just saw Peter maybe two weeks ago. I worked with him some.
We weren’t close, at all, but we got along well.
He died in his sleep and left a buncha people that loved him and will miss him.
That’s a good way to go, if you’ve gotta go, I say.
Goodnight, Peter.
You’ve worked hard enough, and you’ve earned your rest.
Her: You don’t want to make his death about you. Me: I get that, but I also don’t ever feel right telling someone else’s story. Her: That’s true. Me: It’s a delicate balance. I suppose the main point is that the people in our lives are part of the fabric of it and Peter was a part of mine. I’ll never see him again and he was someone that I always liked seeing.
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
Music: I decide to be happy (Spotify) Subscribe! Like this post? Tell someone about it by clicking a button below.
