Treading Water in a Sea of Sadness

I guess I'm known as a fairly upbeat, cheerful guy. I try to be an upbeat, cheerful guy. But lately, sadness seems to have me by the ass.

It seemed to start just before I flew off to work last time. My break at home had been abbreviated, because I'd stayed extra time in Louisiana to help out with the evacuations for hurricanes Gustav and Ike. I usually give Dylan two days warning before I leave for work, but we'd had a great time for the mere week I'd been home, and I suppose I was thinking that I didn't want to put a damper on the time we had left. The evening before I left--I had to start driving at two in the morning to make it to Sacramento--I told Dylan that I'd be leaving before he woke up.

Sheesh, I was an idiot. We were out by the barn, and Dylan and I were talking while I unloaded hay from the trailer.

"You're leaving tomorrow?" The look on his face stabbed me. "Yeah, Punkin', I have to leave tomorrow." Usually, Dylan is fairly stoic about my pending departures. He might get a little teary, or he might just give me a hug and calmly say, "I'm going to miss you, Dad," before going back to whatever he was doing. (Sometimes I chuckle when he's like that, and mentally finish his response with, "Don't let the door hit you on the ass, Dad.")

But this time, Dylan started crying, and crying hard. I sat on a hay bale with him in my arms, and held him for a good fifteen minutes while he cried.

It killed me. As a baby and a kid, Dylan has probably cried as often as any normal kid, but seldom has he ever cried for very long. It really shook me that he was so upset. When he finally quit crying, I looked in his eyes. "Dylan, when I'm away, I think about you and Mama from the time I wake up until the time I go to sleep. Do you feel it?" He took a deep breath. "I think so," he answered.

The drive to Sacramento the following morning really, really sucked.

And then I found out about Debby. Debby writes one of my very favorite blogs, Life's Funny Like That. She has a wonderful ability to relate the poignancy, tragedy, humor, and beauty of everyday life. She writes a newspaper column, and seldom misses a day of posting to her blog. She does that while holding down a job, taking care of her family, and being active in her church. I think she's a treasure.

Folks like Debby really make me feel humble. I mean, gosh, if I go to the bank and the supermarket in the same day, I need a nap.

Debby recently learned that she has breast cancer. I've often pondered the distinction between on online friend and the sort of friend that's actually seen and heard. If there is a distinction, it now seems meaningless. Debby's situation has shaken me no less than hearing such news about a seen-and-heard friend. I've never met her in person, but to me, she's a shining soul. I wish I could give her and her husband Tim a hug.

I want to be positive, I really do. But damn it, sometimes life really pisses me off.

I've focused on sadness a lot lately. I saw an obviously homeless man cross the street yesterday, as I took Dylan to school. We were singing along to "La Grange," by ZZ Top, waiting at a stoplight. I was pondering whether I'd go to hell. That is, I was wondering if I'd go to hell for singing along with a song about a whorehouse with my son.

Then I saw him crossing in front of us. He couldn't have been older than nineteen. He was someone's son, but he had no home. It stabbed me.

Sometimes I envy folks who seem to simply ignore sadness. I can't. I feel the need to face it. That way, it won't devour me. That way, I keep the hope alive that someday, somehow, it will all make sense.