Despondent

Dear Dad,

The realtor is coming tomorrow so that Mom can sign the required paperwork. She is definitely going through with it. She is selling your house. The house you promised would always be here for me. Mom knows I’m not happy about it. We had a terrible fight this morning. She told me if I wanted to move I could live here rent free. But I’ve lost track of how many times I’ve tried to explain to her that I can’t move here for two reasons: 1) my spouse hates it out here and she’d never move (I’m the idiot that moved to a state I don’t like and now I’m stuck there) and 2) there are no ATA taekwondo schools on Long Island which means G3 would no longer be able to train or compete. He doesn’t want to give it up and I certainly don’t blame him. It’s something he enjoys, something he excels at, which is extremely good for his self esteem.

When I told Mom I couldn’t move, she said she’d give me the house. But then she reminded me that I don’t have a job which means I’d never be able to afford the taxes and upkeep expenses. Needless to say, that left me feeling even worse — as if I needed anything to make me cry even more than I’ve already been crying. I feel like crap. Another Father’s Day without you, combined with the selling of the house has taken a serious toll on my emotional state. I didn’t need to be reminded of all my failures as well. My lack of employment is certainly not from lack of trying. I don’t get it. You always told me that I could do anything I put my mind to. Apparently, you were wrong. Because everything I set out to do, everything I put my mind to, simply crashes and burns. In my early years, what I wanted most was to be a professional athlete, but despite my dedication, I didn’t have the required talent. More recently, I wanted to get a doctorate in history, but I wasn’t smart enough. Twice I tried to launch online literary magazines, but they both died in their infancy stages from lack of interest. And writing, at what point does one cut their losses and walk away? How many rejections letters do I have to receive before I get the message that no one is interested in either my novels or my memoirs? Perhaps I’ve just fooled myself into thinking I can write. Then there is teaching. Idiots who think Nixon was the only impeached president and morons who think piracy died out with Blackbeard can get jobs, but not me. I’m tired of putting myself out there. Tired of watching other people catch breaks. Tired of just not being good enough. Those who can’t do, teach. And I can’t even get a teaching job. What does that say about me?

And you aren’t even here to tell me not to worry. You’re not here to tell me that everything will work out. Of course, the last time you told me not to worry, you died. And look at how everything is falling apart. Nothing, not one single, thing worked out. Things are so much worse than they were the very last time you told me everything would be fine.

This morning, G3 wanted to go kayaking. I’m glad. It was an excuse to get out of the house since your neighbor came over to look at it. He told Mom he is seriously considering buying it. I couldn’t be home while he walked through your space. It felt like too much of a violation. Since I can’t put the kayaks on the car — it’s too small and it doesn’t have a rack — G3 and I had to carry them down to the inlet. It’s a long and tedious process since the handles dig into his hands and he needs to stop and rest every twenty-five steps. But once we got the boats into the water we had fun. We reminisced about you and how you enjoyed floating along with the current. G3 says he remembers being in the kayaks with you, but he was so little, I wonder if he really remembers or if he’s just heard my stories so often he thinks he remembers.

It was not a beach day. It was cloudy and windy and not very warm. But our days here are numbered and so we went to the beach. The summer reading program began today and G3 wants to log as many hours as possible. It’s his last summer here and he wants to earn as many prizes as he can. Therefore, when we got to the beach, he took out his book and read until he finished it. Only then, despite the less than optimum conditions, he went for a swim. 

I miss you!