Maybe I say this every year, but each year grows further from the past and each year, I think of how distant we have grown. I think about how long it’s been, between then and now.
It’s been 35 years.
35 years is a long time.
I think about the accomplishments and the achievements that take place in a man’s life of 35 years.
I think about the birth which takes place or as it seems, when someone exits, another life comes through. I think about the birth of life and the early years, or the training years.
A lot goes on in a man’s life of 35 years.
This means the schooling years and all the bumps and bruises that come with growing pains, which span a young life.
This would include a boy’s first time riding a new bicycle. This would also include the first time a boy ever flew a kite, or went fishing, or saw the beach for the first time (like we used to do).
A lot happens in 35 years.
All of the basic ups and downs take place and let’s not forget about the common threads from a boyhood crush, or a boy’s first kiss, or the simple advice on what a boy should say the first time he meets a girl —and she changes him forever.
What is a boy without a man to teach him?
What is a son without his Father to guide him? Or help him?
What is a teenager when going through the changes within as he starts to learn about manhood?
I think about these things,
Who would this young man be when experiencing his first heartbreak?
How does a young man find at least a modicum of understanding or a semblance of courage to get back up, and how can a young man be inspired to try again without the push or the shove from his Father?
We all need guidance.
We all need a Mom, I know that.
But as I see it; every son needs his Father too. Or in my case, every kid needs his “Pop,” or as I often refer – every boy needs his Old Man.
Life comes with twists and turns. Life comes with unexpected mishaps and lets not forget the moments where inexperience can drive us mad, to which I ask, who would a young man be without someone to come along and point him in the right direction?
We all need someone to point out that life will change. And love will change too. Love will evolve and, of course, so will we.
But time is funny and so are the unknown and uncharted territories that we find ourselves in.
We swear that things will “Always” be this way. As for this, the terms we use like, “Forever” and “Always” are much longer than we consider.
I know this is so, especially when it comes to letdowns or heartbreak, or when we are played the fool, or if we make a bad choice and in the short-term, we tend to believe that mistakes like this will last forever.
But they don’t.
In other regards, there are times when we believe in the word “Never,” and this is another word too. Never is a really long time, and sometimes, the word never fits. The only remedy to this is to accept “what is,” so we can learn and change what is into what it will be.
Sometimes things never happen. And that’s true.
Sometimes always and forever can fit the case, but time does play tricks on us. To the young mind, or in the battles of own despair, or when life is just too hard, I ask again, who would a young man be without his Old Man to be there to guide him?
Who would teach him to play catch?
Who would teach me to break in a baseball glove?
Who else could show me how to use tools, the right way?
You did that.
Who would teach a young man how to drive?
Who would teach him what to say on a job interview, and who else (but a Father) could guide him in a way, or teach him to adapt, or who else could show a young man how to adjust and to overcome?
Who else could be in the stands and cheer louder than the other parents or who else could be prouder than a Father?
Anyone?
I don’t think so . . .
A lot happens in 35 years. First jobs. First apartments.
First cars and the first time a kid has to be a man and pay his own bills.
I think of all the warnings we hear when we are younger. I think about the times when kids hear their Old Man tell them, “be careful,” because experience shows that mistakes happen — and at one point, we all believed that we could be invincible. I believed this too, until life came along and taught me that I am only mortal.
Only heroes are immortal, and who else is a boy’s first hero?
His Old Man, that’s who.
That’s you.
There are the unfortunate facts of life, which come into play. Life happens and, therefore, the absence of life takes place; whereas this is when we learn the truth, that death is part of life, and life is nothing other than an inevitable and eventual stream of events.
As I have said before, we are born at the daybreak of our lives and we grow until noon, which leads us to our midday, and thus, we live and we learn. Thus, our life finds its way to be an afternoon, which notices the arrival of sunset, and leads us to the eternal sleep of nightfall.
This is figurative, of course, but this is life in comparison to the span of daytime.
I have spun my way around the sun for longer than 35 years.
I have lived. I have fallen.
I have lied and I have been caught, red-handed, in fact.
I have recovered and fallen backwards.
I have achieved and redeemed myself.
I have seen moments of despair and suffered from the bouts of heartbreak.
I have painted myself in corners, so-to-speak.
I have had no choice but to teach myself how to get back up when falling down.
And sure, I fall a lot, Pop.
But who doesn’t?
I’ve had to teach myself how to adjust or how to adapt, and through bouts of despair and with a little help from trial and error, I have come to find that I am a work in progress.
We all are.
You were too, when you were here, that is.
There are so many things that I have seen which would have been nice to share with you.
There are times when I stood in the face of my biggest fears or faced the tyranny of my worst bully.
There are also times when I learned to withstand, and where I chose to endure.
I did this.
I had to.
I did this, no matter how hard the times were.
There are times when I found myself in moments of greatness, and yes, it would have been nice to share this, or to be seen, or to hear the words that every young man wants to hear.
“I’m proud of you. Son!”
It was on this day, December 29, 1989.
You passed on a Friday.
I was still a boy. I was on the verge of manhood. I was new in some regards but throughout all of my changes and despite our bouts between us, no matter what took place in my young life and no matter what was said in the moment of hard feelings, you are and will always be my very first hero.
And heroes are not allowed to die. . .
But they do.
(sometimes)
You never got to see who I became. You never saw me at my best. There are times when I am at my worst and, of course, guilt and shame make it hard to look at your picture.
I have grown.
I have fallen.
I have lifted myself up when no one was around to help.
I have called for you though.
I’ve wished for you to come back.
I promised to be a good boy this time.
I have wished for things, like a do-over, and I find myself imagining us doing the things that we never had the chance to do, like building a model car, or maybe we could build a soapbox car and enter in one of those races that fathers and sons do. You know?
I am young again when I think of this, and so are you.
I am wholesome and pure and free from the burdens of guilt.
You were right. I understand better now.
I also understand what Mark Twain meant when he wrote, “Man is the only animal that blushes —or needs to.”
I get this too.
Dear Pop,
I did like you said with Mom but she is with you now, at least I hope she is.
I took care of her the best I could. At times, I was hurt because no one was around to help or take care of me.
I didn’t know what I was doing, Pop.
Then again, I think this is one of the lessons a Father should teach his son.
Sometimes, we don’t know what we’re doing.
But we have to try.
We can’t just lay down and let the world trample us under its feet.
We can’t just “give up” and quit.
I think about the question Marcus Aurelius asked his humble servant, Cicero.
He asked, if Cicero ever found it hard to do his duties.
Cicero responded, “Sometimes, I do what I want to do. The rest of the time, I do what I have to.”
I have to say this, Pop.
No truer words have ever been spoken.
These are things that Father’s teach their sons.
I might not have learned this from you, but as I recall, there were countless times when you told me, “you’ll understand when you get older.”
And you were right, Pop.
I do understand now that I am older.
I still don’t understand everything, but then again, maybe I’m not old enough yet.
There are times when I could use your guidance, or more importantly, and more important than your advice, there are times when a boy needs his Father, and a kid needs his very first hero.
I often imagine us out on the ocean and fishing in the deep sea.
There are no need for words.
No, this is just a valuable moment between a Father and his son.
I need that, Pop.
I really do.
There are so many things that I still don’t get. And I don’t understand, but maybe I will understand at some point (or when I get older).
There are people who I wish you could meet.
I would love for you to hear what they would say about me.
You weren’t there to see me speak in auditoriums or to see one of my college lectures.
You weren’t there when I spoke to a roomful of school administrators or how I told them who I was or where I have been.
I was flown across the country for the work I do.
I wished there was a way to call you and say, “Guess where I am now!”
But the phones don’t ring where you live.
I remember doing a lecture to a roomful of different educators.
I showed them your picture because I told the audience, “My Old Man never had the chance to see this.” So, I brought you with me with the hope that maybe . . .
Maybe you caught a glimpse.
I was on the news a few times, Pop. I have some books out.
Can you believe it?
I’m part of a college final exam in an advanced psyche course. I also give lectures on one of the college’s advanced drug and alcohol course for new and upcoming counselors.
They refer to me . . . your baby boy.
I fell in line and took a job a long time ago, to which I cannot say that I have passion for anymore.
But one day, Pop.
I promise that your baby boy is going to be somebody, and I will be someone good too.
I will be someone you can be proud of.
There is someone I would like you to meet, Pop. And, of course, if you have ever heard my prayers, you might remember a time when we went fishing, and yes, I wish you were there.
She would love you.
And you would love her too.
Say hello to her, Pop.
When you see her.
Let her know that I might get crazy sometimes, but I don’t mean to be.
I really mean well. I do.
Maybe you could explain this to her the only way a Father knows how.
Know what I mean?
Anyway, Pop.
I have to go. The day is moving ahead, and time passes us by quicker as we grow older.
I think this was one of the things you tried to teach me, but maybe I was too young at the time.
I don’t want to miss anything anymore.
I know you tried to warn me about this before, but like you said, I understand more. . .
now that I’m older.
Sleep well, Pop.
Your son,
B—
The Written Addiction 