For the rest of us.
This is a particularly difficult time of year for many people, your scribe included. We sit by and offer smiles and cheers while feeling hollow. So very important to remember that we are celebrating the birth of Jesus, let that be our comfort.
The child-like wonder of the season still holds a niche in our psyche, as the song goes, from 1 to 99. Constant media bombardment of joyous family gatherings, sharing the gift of love. If you have that you are truly blessed and gifted.
I was a stay at home dad for 20 years. Dedicated to knowing when, where, and whom with of my three children. I gave it my best solo effort. The children’s mother a high earning, chronic, raging alcoholic. My strict parenting overlooked in favor of credit cards, car keys, and coddling.
I still love my kids as much as you love yours. And I always will. My son, estranged now for 13 years, included.
I texted my daughters last month to remind they missed my birthday. Knowing last week, as I carried their gifts to the Indy post office, that there would be no reciprocity or recognition. No wish for love, peace, happiness and joy from those that mean the world to me.
God Bless this angel in my life, my dear sweet Linda. She sees through my facade and nurses my hurt.
I am not alone, this column for the rest of us.
Miles, Alli, & Katie. They were my whole world for 20 years.