Out-Numbered

Maybe it's because my back is killing me. Maybe it's because I've had this chronic shooting pain in my leg since the summer. Maybe it's because the surgery that was supposed to fix it all doesn't seem to be working. It could be that someone less than considerate stole all of the damn tires off my Jeep the other night. Or perhaps it's that my oldest daughter told me to "fuck off" on Instagram the week before last. Whatever it was made me sit in my car, alone in the driveway, in silence. It made me pick up my phone and scroll through my voicemail messages. I wasn't checking for anything new. I was looking for something old.  I knew exactly where it was.  Third from the bottom, right after the message from the meatball when she was 3, asking me if I'd be home for dinner. Man, she had such a cute voice.  I save old voicemails like I save old photographs. I keep them stashed in their digital drawer and ...

I just said goodbye to my dog. He didn't die thank God. That would have wrecked me. He just went to hang out with his grandma for the night. Those two are old souls. Probably making good on unfinished business from lives past. The thought of it makes me smile. Today I've had the day to myself which is rare. Much needed time to reflect and decompress. Time to reverse engineer the last three hundred and sixty five twenty fours. Life has been busy and slow and empty and full. It's been up and down and all of the above. It's been ad infinitum and whatever else describes the endless flow of days. They pile up and spill out all over the floor, in a crash, like a fumbled pitcher of sweet iced tea that slipped from the hands of a little kid trying to impress a living room full of adults, gathered around the dining room table, locked in a game of charades. I'm feeling a little bit vulnerable right now. My emotions have been waiting patiently. Waiting ...

And then there is death... My oldest daughter is turning ten this week. She is pretty and smart and fragile and strong. She is an open book. She is a puzzle with a million pieces. She is an old soul tethered to a dark past. She is a bright light shining through a gray sky. She is inexplicably unique yet she is exactly like me. Oldest: "Daddy?" Me: "Yes baby." Oldest: "I don't want to turn ten." Me: "How come?" Oldest: "I just don't want to." Me: "But it wouldn't be any fun staying 9 forever, would it?" Oldest: "I don't care." Me: "Don't you want to do all the things you can do when you get older? Oldest: "Like what?" Me: "Well you can drive. You can go to the mall on your own and with your friends. You can fall in love. All kinds of great stuff." Oldest: "I don't want to get married and I don't want to have kids or grand kids." ...

How do you say "goodbye" to someone that has already gone away? This is the first thing that popped into my head today when I heard the terrible news. She had been battling Cancer for nearly a decade. Pushing back the deadly disease with life. She had friends that cherished her, family that relished her and children that revered her. She was beautiful on the outside and soft and kind on the inside. She was strong and smart and all kinds of funny. She was never afraid to mix it up. At least this is what I remember about her. I haven't seen her in years. Both of us busy with family and business. The usual shit. But every once in awhile there would be an email offering a kind word about my family being beautiful or that my blog made her laugh. That always made me smile. I don't think we, as human beings, realize how much we contribute to each others lives. The little thoughts and prayers we send out into the universe, the fleeting glances, the smiles, the Facebook "...

This week, in fond memory and admiration, I find my inspiration for Out-Numbered in the strong spirit of Jordan I. Lane, affectionately known to my girls as PJ . Six year old: “Daddy?” Me: “Yes baby.” Six year old: “Do people go to heaven when they die?” Me: “I think they go to some place nice.” Six year old: “Do they go to heaven?” Me: “I’m not sure if they go to heaven but it’s definitely a place that’s nice.” Six year old: “When people die, can they talk to other people who are dead?” Me: “I don’t see why not?” Six year old: “Is PJ going to talk to everybody in heaven?” Me: “Sure. He’s probably going to talk to a lot of people. Anybody that will listen, I’m sure.” Six year old: “If my best friend and I die at the same time, can we talk to each other in heaven?” Me: “That would be terrible sweetheart.” Six year old: “Whatever. Will we be able to talk to each other?” Me: “I suppose so. Knock on wo...