Bittersweet Holiday

My father died the day before Thanksgiving, in 2008.   My wife left shortly before, and our girlfriend left shortly thereafter - 

It's pretty fair to say I was a mess.  Raising a little girl on my own, with two holes in my life, and my biggest support gone...I definitely wasn't Kenova anymore.  

I withdrew from Fetlife.  I withdrew from my own consulting company, and sold it off (the name, the rights, the client list, the equipment, the whole deal).  Every time I felt like I hit rock bottom, I hit auto dial for my father's cell phone.  It was just a reflex - if things were bad, call your Dad.  

It took a few times hitting his voicemail, then hitting the shut off notice, before it really sunk in that he wasn't there anymore.  

My sister was a missionary and moved in to help with my mother.   I'm not ashamed to say she also came over on 2 hour drives to help with my daughter.  

When things really dropped out, I met this mousy little grad student who propped things up for a few weeks and became a surrogate mother to my daughter.  Submissive as she was, she quietly took over our lives for a few weeks until I was seeing daylight again.  

Dad used to tell us, that it wasn't important to know how to fix something.  It was just important to know that it could be fixed.   Everything else falls into place after that. 

I spent the last 9 years mostly avoiding this holiday, because...well, because.  

I could take care of my kids, I could get a new job, I could move an hour away, buy a new house and a new car...I could shoulder responsibilities for everyone else who was mourning - but I had no idea how to fix the holiday.  

But nine year changes things.  And sometimes when you don't know how to fix a thing, you just have to know it can be fixed.  

Over nine years I've gone from reaching for Dad, to being Dad.  I won primary custody of my daughter from my first marriage, and I have a 3 year old son.  The mouse is my wife now, and mother to both her step daughter and our son equally.  I wear a badge and a gun, like my father did before we were born, and I'm doing justice to them both.  Maybe I have a few flaws (neither of my parents are or would be thrilled with the open sex partner thing, the cigars or the scotch) but I'm Dad now.   

I'm not reaching for that auto dial anymore.  And the holiday is for my kids now - not for my Dad.   The ex-wife and the girlfriend are gone, but a new wife and kids have filled those holes (and then some).

So maybe this is bitter sweet holiday.  One hole is still left, where my father used to be. 

But I'm the father now.  And sometimes life is supposed to be bitter sweet.