Sometimes, You’re Just Sad

It’s been a pretty lousy last month if I’m being honest. Sick over my spring vacation, sharing that sickness with my elderly parents, one of my best friends and longtime co-worker has a heart attack and is out of commission for three months, and then there’s the month of May. May is one of those months where the hits keep on hitting one after another. End of April is my wife’s birthday, then there’s Mother’s Day, our oldest’s birthday, and our second oldest’s birthday a week later. Then there’s car insurance that’s due as well, oh and plates for all the vehicles as well.

It’s always been an overwhelming time of year for my wife and I. It was more so for her when the kids were younger, but now it seems to be more for me now that they’re older. For her it was the birthday party planning, hosting some shindig with friends of the kids and their parents, the pressure of an “awesome” cake and the “perfect” gifts, plus grandparents and great grandparents. Neither of us are much for hosting, but my wife found it particularly overwhelming. I could get it together enough to cover for both of us, but I never enjoyed those gatherings.

But as I’ve gotten older I’m finding watching everything move along around me to be somewhat emotionally draining. I’ve been in a funk for the last couple of weeks(and not the cool, James Brown or Herbie Hancock funk) and I just can’t seem to shake it. It doesn’t help seasonal allergies got me in a congested head lock, and the weather with it’s extreme ups and downs, not making up its mind if it wants to progress or regress. It’s all just making my brain become lethargic, melancholy, and just make me feel overall like maybe a good cry is in order.

Sure, I cry. I don’t make a habit out of it, but when I’m emotionally primed all it takes is just thinking about a song, or something we did with the kids when they were little. Nothing huge, either. The major vacations were always fun, but I always think about the little moments. Taking our oldest when they were 4 and our middle kid was 1 to the Hallmark Store and playing with the Thomas The Tank Engine set in the back of the store…or our middle kid doing my hair in the living room as we watched a show(I really had no hair to do, so it was basically wetting my scalp and combing it really, really hard.) The trip to the Hall of Heroes Superhero Museum in Elkhart, IN over spring break, 2014. Going to see The Avengers with my son and going to get dinner afterwards.

It’s all those little moments that add up to what I truly feel to be some of the best times in my life as a father.

So when we come around to birthday time it’s that stark reminder of how far we’ve moved from those moments. The excitement of a summer day trip to the library for a stack of graphic novels, then make tacos that night. Even with everything literally at our fingertips movie-wise now I still miss going to Blockbuster or Family Video and renting Scooby Doo cartoons or the latest horror junk recently released. Even buying gifts is hard now. I mean, a gift card or an envelope with money is the perfect gift for the 20 to 25-year old. But I miss shopping for action figures, colorful bed comforters, or stacks of books. Giving money and gift cards almost feels like you’re saying “Hey, since I don’t really know you anymore here’s money so you can buy something yourself.” Maybe not quite giving up, but putting your hands up and saying “I guess 18 years was enough time to surprise you once a year.”

Sorry, that’s the maudlin talking.

I do still know my kids. Really, I do. I think it’s just the fact that we just parted ways with the old family van has me thinking a lot about the last 10 to 15 years. And there’s still this miniature schnauzer-sized hole in my heart that I haven’t quite filled just yet. He was a major part of parenthood. He was the barking, caffeinated glue that really held us all together. Losing him last December felt like the bell tolling on being a dad of kiddos, instead of a dad to fellow adults.

This isn’t depression. It’s just plain old sad; wistful, melancholic, nostalgic, and maybe even a little weepy. I guess I’m mourning the whole last decade that’s now completely in the rearview, and with it the guy that was so happy to find a comfort zone turning 40. It was the decade where I truly feel I became who I was meant to become. Awkward teens, ignorant twenties, confused 30s were gone, and 40 arrived with the proper owner’s manual to being a proper husband, father, son, and friend. My 40s also brought my comeuppance for years of lifting things I shouldn’t in the form of damaged joints and muscles, but I felt like I had the mental tools to deal with it.

I don’t know what to think of my 50s. I still feel like I did, but there’s a slight touch of unease in this decade. Maybe even a feeling that there’s some kind of shadowy intent around the corner. When I ask the Magic 8-Ball what my 50s have in store for me, the only answer I get is “Reply hazy, try again.” Maybe it’s because with the kids all grown up and the last one moving out in August it just feels very much like some new phase about to begin. A new chapter with my wife and I as these two adults who have dedicated their lives for the last 25 years to these three beings we created together. And now that they won’t be around, or need us at least in the capacity that they did, that I’m not sure what that “freedom” is going to bring. I mean, it’s hard enough for me to cook a meal for less people. With just two us, well that just sounds kind of crazy. There’s going to be a lot of rewiring going on in my head, and I’m bound to cross one of two of them in the process.

Did I mention I’m not that good with change? No? Oh, well I’m really not.

I know my wife and I will manage(she will for sure), and I’ll find new footing in this new era of adulthood teetering on the infant stages of AARP memberships and senior discounts at the movie theater. But no matter how you slice it, sometimes you’re just sad.

And that’s okay.