Day 126

I keep waiting for things to get easier — less sad. So many people told me that as the days pass, things get more manageable. Maybe they meant in the distance future, like in a decade, because there are days I’m still shrouded in unbearable sadness. Lately, it’s like I’m trying to make my way through quicksand. I actually have to remind myself to breathe sometimes. 

Today, back at the Treasure Beach, Mom looked very sad in the water. I told her if it was too painful to be there she could stay home, but she shook her head, “I’m trapped between being sad your father isn’t here and happy your son is having a good time. But I can’t stop thinking about how things could have been if your father lived. He had so many plans. This year he wanted to take his grandson to Disney. Next year, he told me he was going to take him to Rocking Horse Dude Ranch. He couldn’t wait. He thought they’d have a lot of fun together horseback riding. And then the year after, he wanted to take him to the Caribbean. He knew how much your son wanted to go where the pirates once lived. There were so many things he wanted to do now that his grandson was old enough to enjoy them.” She paused to wipe her tears, “This pandemic could have been so different if he hadn’t gotten sick. If he hadn’t died. But I’ve never had any luck. Things have never really worked out for me. It’s like my life is a constant scenario of what could have been.”

And Mom isn’t the only one. When I look back on my life, things have never worked out as I hoped, as I had planned. Luck never tipped the scales in my direction, never gave me a boost. Instead, it forced me to watch as others got the call, the the contract, the book deal. And most recently, it forced me to watch as other fathers recovered from Covid. Other children got to have their parents come home, but not me. It’s like I knew when Dad got sick he wouldn’t get better, because that’s the way my life always turns out. It never veers down the path I want it to. What would have happened if I had that coach in high school who believed in me? What would have happened if just one teacher took a chance on me? What would have happened if I had gotten the job I really wanted? What would have happened if I had gotten the agent? What would have happened if I wasn’t invisible? What would have happened if Dad hadn’t died? How would the pandemic have played out if my son and I got to spend all this extra time with Dad? My life is a series of what ifs, roads that luck never allowed me to traverse. Any you can’t say it’s because I didn’t try. Maybe I tried too hard. Maybe I wanted things too badly.

After dinner, Mom was putting a new bottle of lemonade in the refrigerator and she came across a bottle of champaign. She sighed as she moved it aside, “We’ve had that bottle in here forever. I think your father got it when he retired, but we never drank it. We were waiting for you to get a job. We we were waiting for you to publish a book. We were waiting for when we didn’t have to worry about you and then we were going to celebrate.” Dad died before he could drink the champaign. He died knowing I’d probably never get anywhere, never end up on a path where I could actually look back and say, “I did it. This is where I want to be. I’m happy.” 

If Dad had lived, he’d be watching a movie with my son. If Dad had lived, my son would be happy. If Dad had lived, I wouldn’t be crying right now. But Dad did die, and I know now, luck will never determine anything in my favor. Luck will always mock me by letting someone else get the brass ring, by letting someone else greet their parent with smiles and joy after a long painful hospital stay. For me, it’s only cremation and ashes.

My son spent much of the afternoon fishing. Though he was patience and didn’t give up, he didn’t catch anything. Maybe he got the family gene when it came to luck.

Dad was the luckiest thing that ever happened to my son. Dad could have made him happy in ways I never will. With no luck in regards to jobs or books, I’ll never have the money to pay for the trips Dad had lined up. I’ve seriously begun to wonder why I should bother waking up every morning, if every resume and query letter will be met with rejection. What’s the point of doing anything, if you never get any further, if you never catch that break? If each day just brings more sorrow and disappointment?