My How You've Grown

Jameson wanted to sit next to you at the table that night and you two shared a basket of fries. He watched you dip them into ketchup and his eyelashes fluttered every time you looked at him. You would look at each other and grin and even though your mumble was one that I had spent my whole life trying to make out, he understood you perfectly. The two of you with matching under bites, dark hair, and birth order. You were both the oldest brother of your gang. Kindred spirits alike. He was eight years old that day and you were alive. It was your birthday and it was the last time we’d ever see you again.

We’ve somehow managed on for six years without you Dad. A lot has happened. A lot has changed. Life has been good and rich and it has been really hard and sad. We have been tested and torn and tender and rebuilt again. I have felt you beside me more times than I’ll ever be able to count and I always catch glimpses of you that help to dull my heartache. Jameson is starting high school and has a girlfriend and he gets straight A’s in school. He has your tender, golden heart and is teaching himself to play the guitar. When he laughs at certain things he throws his head back just like you. He’s entrepreneurial and passionate and dreams of things much bigger than what is right in front of him. Dakotah is a magnificent writer and fiercely passionate about politics and honor and justice. He is stubborn and you can never out-argue him and he is smart, so smart. I can’t even imagine the deep conversations you two would have had together. He grew right into that tall basketball player you always said he should be, except he loves to draw and cook and listen to music and he likes his quiet, centered space. He loves to take things apart only to put them together in a new way just like you always did. I imagine someday he will take long drives and listen to instrumental music and circle the city at night just like you used to when you needed to meditate and clear your head. Kellan has an imagination bigger than I’ve ever known. He tells wild stories and paints characters and feelings deep from within. He’s guarded and fiercely sensitive but melts into any tender hug. He’s wild and free and would ride his bike for the rest of his life if we didn’t tell him to ever come inside. He scored his first goal last night and strutted down the field with a new wave of confidence I hope sticks with him for the rest of his life. I saw the pink painted sky in the horizon, so I know you saw it too. He loves the fall just like you and his face gets soft when we go for walks and rake piles of leaves. I don’t have to tell you much about Presley because I know that you sent him just for us. One of the hardest things I ever had to do was bring a baby into this world and not have a chance to share the joy of it all with you, but he was everything we ever needed and so very much more. The sparkle in his eyes when he smiles (all the time) lift me out of any dark place I’m in. He giggles when he talks and it’s contagious and he finishes our sentences when we don’t complete them. He uses bigger words than any of us in the house and loves to give us hugs one by one. He calls the boys “his brothers” like he owns them, because well, he basically does! He’s definitely spoiled in all the right ways. Sometimes he will tell me things like “remember when I used to hold you when you were a baby” or “Grandpa looks like me” and I know that he knows exactly who you are in his heart.

In a lot of ways our life hasn’t changed too much. Our struggles are still the same and our richness continues to grow. We eat dinner together and talk and center ourselves around that table. I know that you’re with us then. Rocky works so hard, but he never misses dinner. He doesn’t miss soccer games or orchestra concerts or conferences. He plays basketball with them and they do pull up contests and burpies together and he makes them mow the lawn. He takes them fishing and rides the Zipper at the fair even though he doesn’t like rides. He talks to them about good friendships and bad ones and how important their studies are and he is proud, so proud. We still haven’t won the lottery and we still hustle to get through it all, but we are rich these days. I’m putting myself on the list now. I’m chasing my dreams and I’m looking up and I see so many things that you lay in front of my path every day. I’m getting older and some things don’t fit into my life anymore. I’m letting go of things that make me sick, and angry, and sad. I’m trying so hard to be present, and real, and authentic but I totally still lose my shit and fall into my old patterns sometimes. I have learned how to forgive myself on those days. You would be proud, I know. I imagine what it would be like to talk about life with you now, but I can’t think about that for too long or the stitchings in my heart starts to open up again. I chant all of your sayings to myself when I need a little boost and I share them with the kids too. I drive by our old house when I need to remember what life was like when I’d fall asleep on your shoulder. I look at the boys laughing when I start to forget what your smile looks like.

I won’t ever be able to watch you eat fries with Jameson again or brag to you about how tall Dakotah is or show you Kellan’s drawings. I won’t be able to tell you that I listened and we did get braces on Jameson’s teeth and he doesn’t have your under bite anymore or that he didn’t want to get them because he didn’t want to lose that piece of him that he shared with you. We won’t split a banana malt and I can’t ask for advice on the hard days with a fast answer back, even if you mumbled. But I can feel it in my heart and deep within how you cheer us on. We save a spot for you every year at that 50’s Grill table and celebrate your birthday because you are always with us. You are in the sky and the birds and the time and the shadows of our boys. You live on each year through each of them and the love we have for you. Happy birthday DaddyO.