Twelve

Dear Dad,

We celebrated G3’s twelfth birthday yesterday, but without you here, I don’t know how to make the day special for him anymore. What he always looked forward to most on his birthday was seeing his grandparents. He knew you hated New Jersey. He knew you hated crossing the river, and yet every year on his birthday you did just that — for him. It was you and Mom and your company that made the day special for him. Now without you, the day feels flat. Like every other holiday, when what we feel most is your absence. And since Mom doesn’t drive, she can’t get here without you. So there are no more parties — just the three of us.

New Year’s Eve and the morning of New Year’s Day were always so stressful. We’d have the condo to clean, shopping to do, decorations to make, and food to cook. It was a whirlwind of activities to prepare for G3’s party, but it was worth it to see his excitement the moment you showed up at the door. He’d always wake up early, despite having stayed up so late. I’d make him M&M pancakes that spelled out his name and then begin getting dinner ready. He’d be so full of energy and excitement he couldn’t sit or do anything constructive. But the moment you appeared there was nothing but joy. Who knew that the day would arrive that I’d actually miss the stress and anxiety of all that preparation. Oh, I’d give anything to have it back so that you could make G3 smile again.

Since G3 was born, New Year’s has been all about him. He loves New Year’s Eve because it’s like the entire world is celebrating his birthday. We gave up trying to put him to bed early when he was three and flat out refused to go to sleep. We stayed up to watch the ball drop, so he didn’t think it was fair that we made him to go bed, especially since — according to his young mind — the ball dropped not to ring in the New Year, but to wish him a Happy Birthday. And when that ball drops, it’s never “Happy New Year.” Instead, we shout “Happy Birthday,” and throw our arms around G3 to hug him. 

This year was no different. We watched Death to 2021, which surprisingly was as funny as Death to 2020. I wish you had lived long enough to watch those shows, you’d have enjoyed them. I miss hearing you laugh. We then watched the first couple of episodes of Cobra Kai, since the episodes dropped that day — Netflix’s birthday present for G3. I’m sure you would have hated that series, if G3 could have even gotten you to watch it. But I like it, because it flips the script from the Karate Kid. Instead of rooting for Daniel, I find myself rooting for Johnny. He seems more real.

G3 usually likes watching Anderson Cooper on CNN, but the New Year’s Eve show was awful this year. Since we found it so thoroughly boring, we flipped back to Cobra Kai. But, of course, we did watch the ball drop. It wouldn’t be New Year’s Eve — or G3’s birthday — if we didn’t. And this year was a milestone of sorts. We said goodbye to 2021, the first full year in which I didn’t have you. How different life is now than it was in 2019 — the last full year you were here. Sadly, even then I wasn’t happy. I was waiting for a break in my writing, a break that still hasn’t come. Then 2020 happened, and not only did my writing continue to stagnate, but you died and I lost my job. I would argue 2021 wasn’t much better. Except for when we hit the road over the summer and traveled out west, I felt like every single day was a repetition of the one before it. I successfully homeschooled G3 — that’s all I can say for 2021. I didn’t even write that much (unless you count my letters to you). And I had fewer pieces published than I’ve had since I started sending out work. The one thing that was plentiful in 2021 were rejection letters from agents. And there was that one job that I came so close to getting — but didn’t. How do I turn my luck around? How do I find an agent interested in me? How do I find a job when no one wants me because I’ve got too many graduate degrees? How do I break out of this stagnated existence? How do I make myself seen? 

Anyway, yesterday morning, we got up early to line up at the Lego store before they opened. They were getting a new shipment of Legos — the new releases — and G3 wanted to go to see if there would be anything he wanted. There wasn’t. He was disappointed. That seemed to set the tone for the rest of the day. When we got home, I made him pancakes, as always, and he opened his presents. We got hime a few things he wanted, and he seemed happy with what he got, but nothing excited him the way your gifts always used to excite him. We can’t compete with iPads and bikes. 

G3 and Kati got into an argument over the icing of the cake. I honestly believe that his crankiness was due to you not being there. I’m not sure Kati really understands how hard it is, how much G3 and I miss you. And G3 isn’t like me. He doesn’t talk about missing you or write about it the way I do, but I know the pain is still there, because it slips out every once in awhile. And since he doesn’t wear his grief as overtly as I do, I guess it’s easier for others to forget it’s there. I think the highlight of his day was watching the rest of the Cobra Kai season and the crepes — apples and caramel, strawberries, chocolate and whipped cream — that he asked Kati to make him for dinner. All that sugar, but you only turn twelve once. 

Twelve years ago today, you saw G3 for the first time when you came to this hospital. I still remember your smile when you held him. He was a lucky little guy to have you in his life for ten years. This afternoon, G3 and I went caching. We did the Adventure Lab in Clinton, and then took a short hike nearby to grab a few traditional caches. There were more we could have gotten, but after an hour and a half of hiking, G3 wanted to be done. I can always go back. And I’m glad he came with me. It’s never as fun to go out alone.

I miss you.