How’s yer week been? You’ve used this opening style in the last week you jackanape!
In case you missed it, there have been a few developments lately.
In the last month, in almost any defining way (bar dying I suppose) that your life can change,
I went from working part-time in a soul-destroying job, while being half of a 10-year relationship and a very hands-on father, one who was in the running for this year’s coveted World’s Best Dad mug, TO getting a new a full-time job, saying goodbye in a sense to the person I thought I’d grow old with, having to move out, and trying to accept that I’m going to be seeing less of my son, which to me means one thing;
Being less of a Dad.
Life changes all the time,
For each of us,
In my case, it’s hard not to feel that it lacked the grace to do so measurably.
Now, some of these things have little to do with the moving.
I know that. I really do.
The hours at my new job, being what they are, meant that roughly once a month, I’d be working from morning to evening and with buses being what they are here, my son would be long in bed before I made it home. That once a month, regardless of whether we shared a home or not, there would be 5 days each month that I would be denied seeing him.
Whether I moved in or out, changes little in this case. Unequivocally speaking, this is a fact.
Fact or not, it doesn’t help.
I miss him,
Even the ones we spend together,
Even on those days where your brain screams for respite, that a granny would magically make themselves known and offer to look after him for a few hours,
I miss him.
I no longer hear his voice in the morning.
I no longer wake up at the sound of my door creaking open, with him encompassing my vision, eager to start a new day.
I no longer get to kiss him goodnight.
Since Sunday, I have not hugged my son.
I have not held him in my arms.
I have felt his head rest on my shoulder.
I want to be able to truly convey my feelings to you…
To express the hurt,
The desolation that channels,
A quiet but visceral pain.
A deadening numbness that echoes one violent cacophony;
None of this matters.
Not without him.
I’ll see him again.
And for a time,
That it’s impossible to maintain a solitary smile.
I’ll hear his laugh. I’ll tickle his toes.
We will play and play and play until he needs to sleep.
Come Sunday morning,
His door will creak open, as I check to see if he’s ready to start the day.
I’ll hold him,
That I will never let him go.
That evening, I’ll kiss him on the brow, say Goodnight.
And This Will Start All Over Again.