For Her

I know that I promised another post about what a miserable Dad I am following my recent visit to Ohio and it seems like this might be a way to kill two birds with one stone…

Since the separation and divorce, all holidays seem to hurt. However, this one ranks right up there with Christmas and the kids’ birthdays. The pain is a strange mixture of guilt, longing, and regret that sits right below the surface and fucks with you. It makes it difficult to concentrate or perform basic tasks. Sometimes it even makes it difficult for me to talk; it so consumes my mind.

Needless to say, I miss her. She carried and gave birth to three of my children. Her sacrifices are immeasurable. She is an amazing mother. Her capacity to understand the needs, desires, and actions of our children baffles me. Often when we were together and I wanted to run through the streets of our neighborhood screaming, naked, and possibly on fire because of the chaos involved with having three small children, she would just sit simply as if in the eye of the storm and resolve every issue, kiss every scrape, and correct every perceived wrong between whichever factions might be warring at that particular moment.

I’ve heard some say that that particular capacity of mothering is a natural instinct. I disagree. Spend time at any Wal-Mart on any given day and you will see plenty of mothers who lack that skill. They take the course of least resistance whether it is smacking the crap out of little Ruprecht or appeasing him with whatever toy/piece of junk has caught his eye that moment. She is different. There is an unbelievable calm within her. Maybe she should have gone into the counseling profession, perhaps professional golf, or medicine. She certainly would have been great in an E.R. I am thankful that she wanted to be a mom because I know that as bad as a father as I am, she makes up for it by being the mother and woman that she is. I stand in awe.