While this year has had a few downs, overall, it's been a wonderful year with some amazing milestones. I'll start with the downs and get those out of the way.
The Downs:
Thankfully, there aren't many, but the few I had I view as significant.
The Diagnosis:
Tom isn't just one of my best buddies. he's my daughter's stepdad, and we've co-dadded for nearly 30 years. We go camping together, make all manner of mischief together, and, inside the family, we're referred to as "The Dads." Tom is now a retired firefighter. Over the course of their careers, firefighters are exposed to a lot of cancer-causing chemicals, and Tom was no exception. Tom had been experiencing a cough, shortness of breath, and was complaining of being tired all the time. He tried to write the symptoms off as "a long-lasting cold," but our son-in-law (a doctor) was having none of it and made him see his primary care physician. Tom was diagnosed with early-stage non-small cell lung cancer in January and began chemo in February.
My Block Festival:
In November 2023, after a 10-year absence, I followed the advice of a friend who works as a publicist and started getting back on social media. For Facebook, it was a lengthy reactivation process, and once completed, I found many of my old friends still merrily posting along.
At one point, I needed a date for a book I'm working on and noticed that two of my estranged kids had blocked me. It provoked an eye roll… I mean, if you cut me out of your life, don't expect me to be the one to reconnect. My attitude was "Once you've shot a bullet through my heart, I'm not chasing the damned gun!" I let it go and moved on.
Working with my other daughter (different moms), she and I found a correlating event from her life, and from that, we were able to get the date I needed, and document it so I could keep working.
Then, towards late March of this year, one of their friends reached out and, as he (and many others did and do), called me "Pops." His dad, whose big parenting role has been as a "social media dad" from another country, jumped in and tried to stop the Pops thing. I'd been through more with that boy than his own father ever had, ever knew about, or could ever fathom.
As I sat there watching their back and forth, I realized that I was participating in the same toxic pattern of sitting silently while others devalued me, and suddenly, I'd had enough. I deserved better, and if his and my relationship wasn't important enough to protect, then count me out! There was no way I was going to sit there and be a party to my own diminishment.
Once I hit the point where I was over being devalued, I went on a blocking spree. I started by blocking both him and his dad, and then I blocked the other kids who'd cut me out of their lives, their spouses, friends, mom, stepdad… every one of them, plus a few more. In that process, I found that the ones who had originally blocked me had unblocked me (I had no idea when), so I blocked them, and their spouses, too! They'd had 16+ months to reach out, and none had.
I'm done being devalued… by anyone! I'm tired of things being one-sided, and more importantly, I am no longer the "Cleanup on aisle 5" guy... I didn't make the mess, and I'm not cleaning it up.
What I didn't realize at the time was that this was a turning point in my healing.
Memory Issues:
On Saturday, April 26th, I was out running some errands. I was at an intersection I'd been to 1000 times before, when suddenly, I had no idea where I was. I didn't know why I was out and about or even which way was home. I pulled into the Lowes parking lot and parked out away from everyone and shut off my car. I pulled my phone out, but I couldn't recognize any of the names in my contacts. I very quickly went from scared to terrified.
Something from deep within my core told me to inhale for 4 counts, hold it for four counts, and exhale for four counts (it's known as ‘box breathing'). I closed my eyes and boxed and breathed through two cycles. When I opened my eyes, the panic and terror were gone. I knew where I was, what I was doing there, and, more importantly, how to get home.
On Monday, I made an appointment with my doctor. Then on Tuesday, I was at a big chain grocery store to pick up a few things. I was chatting with the cashier as she scanned my items and, suddenly, when it was time to pay, I had no idea how to use the credit card terminal. That damned thing might as well have been from the year 2525. I was clueless. The clerk helped me through, and after leaving the checkout, I leaned against the wall and Box Breathed.
Between the credit card terminal and my doctor's appointment, I blew through 2 neighborhood stop signs… I was forgetting how to drive and what to look for.
Another Loss:
In July, I lost an Army buddy to Leukemia. Like many Vietnam era veterans, even latent exposure to Agent Orange increases the risk of certain cancers, with Leukemia and prostate cancer on the list. His funeral was in his hometown of Corbin, KY, a short 90-minute drive that seemed to take 45+ years because that's how many years of memories I poured over during those 90 minutes.
As we age, it's not just the loss of our parents, uncles, aunts, or our older siblings; it's when we lose our peers, our friends from school, and others our age that are close to us that starts ringing the mortality alarms.
The Ups:
My ups are far more plentiful and more significant.
Going Home:
Early in 2025, I traveled to South Florida, a place I love and still think of as home. While I was there, I got to see many of my
old friends and spent some wonderful time with one of my besties. Also, while I was there, I was able to trek down to the University of Miami for some scans of my prostate and checkups on my heart to see how the experimental treatment I had in 2016 was holding up. For those who don't know, I had been diagnosed with Congestive Heart failure, which is terminal, and given just a few years to live. Through sheer dumb luck, I learned about and was able to get into an experimental treatment that involved spending 21 days in the hospital and having my own myocardial stem cells injected into the dying parts of my heart muscle. My heart muscle regrew. So far, there are no problems.
Memory Care:
In April, I saw the doctor about my memory issues. The doctor ordered some scans, and I was put on some meds that seem to be working just fine. I do admit to grappling to find the occasional word or sometimes a face I don't see often, but should recognize, eludes me, but these are small and rare annoyances that everyone my age experiences.
A Temporary Parting:
In May, my daughter and her husband embarked on a year-long assignment in London, England. While they are both terribly missed, they're living their best lives. She's loving her work, and he's stepped into a teaching role that he's thoroughly enjoying. They're making good use of their time off and traveling and exploring as much of Europe as they can. They've developed some nice friendships with some of their neighbors and coworkers. While I take great joy in their happiness, I do miss them more than anyone can imagine. Thank God for FaceTime!
Old Friends Visit:
In early September, two friends passed through, and we were able to grab lunch and spend some time getting caught up. Over the previous year, there had been several attempts to meet up with each other, but stuff kept getting in our way. Finally, it worked out, and we had a wonderful visit that ended in laughter.
The Vacation:
In late September, my bestie came up from Florida for 10 days, and we spent that time traveling the mountains and national forest of East TN and Western NC. She got to spend time with my other bestie, and they talked about spirituality, tarot, and all manner of things they have in common. On one leg of the trip, we stopped at a particular guardrail where, many, many (many) years ago, I had written a love note to her. It was a paraphrase of an E. E. Cummings poem:
I carry your heart with me wherever I go. I am never without it.
Whenever I've passed that spot, I have always stopped and sent her a picture. When we pulled into the overlook and got out of the car, she stood, looking out across the water, and suddenly exclaimed, "I know this place!" and then excitedly went scouring the guardrail for the message (and Amy, thank you for your wonderful handwriting). For us, it's not about being IN love as that part ended more than 15 years ago; it's about the history, the continuity, the sentimentality, and the work we've put into turning what was once a lover's love into a deep friendship. I can thank my daughter's mom for showing me how to navigate that transition.
The Caregiver:
In mid-October, my other bestie had surgery, and I was fortunate enough to be able to be there for her surgery and to be able to spend a week taking care of her while she recovered. We're such great friends, and we tell each other EVERYTHING and keep each other in check, and have held each other up during our weakest times. She's one of the most caring and thoughtful people I know, so being able to take care of her is just a complete privilege and fills my heart with joy. Whether it's spending a week at her place watching her dog while she goes on vacation or her surgery, or just any damned thing she needs, all she has to do is call, and I'm there, and I love every minute of it.
The Healing:
Tom had undergone 4 cycles of chemo, spanning February through late May. In November, he had his second clean scan and was given permission to travel, so he booked a flight to London to spend Christmas with our daughter. I don't think I celebrated my own clean scans with as much joy as I did his.
The Final Stage:
If you're a believer in the Five Stages of Grief, and I am, I was able to hit the final stage this month. This took a lot of years and a lot of work with my therapist and my Dad's estrangement therapy group (Dads Healing Dads). There were just so many lessons learned in the past three years. It's been a wonderful experience.
When it comes to parental estrangement, I went through the 5 stages like this:
- Denial: The initial reaction where I felt numb and believed the loss wasn't happening, that they would come to their senses, that it was a temporary thing, and I ignored and excused their behavior and all the evidence to the contrary.
- Anger: I felt frustrated. I cried out in pain. I felt hurt. I felt betrayed. I felt devalued. I felt helpless because I had seen this exact thing play out in my generation and the generation before me. I know how it ends, and I know it will repeat in their generation.
- Bargaining: I tried to negotiate, even agreed to move closer to make visits easier, and 900 miles later, they never kept their end of the bargain. Once again, I sacrificed all I knew, those I loved, and gave up everything for them, and did it for nothing.
The first 3 stages lasted over 12 years. And they were painful years. The Depression stage didn't come all at once, it weaved its way in and out of the first three stages but as the bargaining stage blew up in my face, the depression stage overwhelmed me until...
- Depression: One phone call on August 28th, 2021, became my "final straw" moment, and the next weekend, I attempted suicide. The sadness, despair and hopelessness had reached a devastating point.
The 4th stage, depression, started lifting when I joined the dad's therapy group in 2022, where one of the first things said to me was, "We hang on to the pain because it's the last connection we have to those people." I sat with those words for a week; I could hardly think of anything else until I decided that I didn't want to live that way, and that conclusion began my journey into the 5th and final stage…
- Acceptance: To come to terms with the loss and allow for a new reality to exist, and my happiness to be restored and to become whole and complete again.
Acceptance took a lot of work. For three years, I took one small step after another. Some steps meant leaving some old pieces of me behind, some steps meant redefining other pieces of my identity, while other steps meant adding whole new pieces to myself. It wasn't easy, but with each step I climbed higher and higher and began feeling settled and happy with the new me that was emerging.
Then, this month, as I was thinking about my firstborn son and how I would mark the 47th anniversary of his death (December 17th), I wrote down how much his birth changed me and the promises I made to myself as to how I would show up for him and any future kids. I knew I would be there in ways that no one had ever been for me. They would never look up at the bleachers or down from a stage and not see their father. They would never have to explain to a teacher why their dad never showed up for a parent/teacher conference. I would be there for them.
As I reflected back over the years, I realized I was there for everything! From soccer games to school shows and award ceremonies, from parent/teacher conferences and volunteering in the classrooms, to doctors' appointments and, well, everything that my folks never showed up for. Every sport, extra-curricular activity, and school play happened because I signed them up and supported them through the process. When they wanted to flee a bad home life, I could have said no, but instead, I opened my doors to them and did my best to continue showing up. No one else did it! Me! I did that!
Was I the perfect parent? Oh Lord no! No one is. Do I have regrets? Certainly, all parents do. But did I do my best? Yes! Did I read parenting books and try to be a better parent? Absolutely. Was I a better parent than my folks were? Absolutely. And with that realization, I forgave myself... I no longer needed their forgiveness; I forgave myself!
And then I sat back, looked at my journal, and smiled. I had done more and given more to my kids than had ever been done for or given to me; I had kept my promise to myself and it didn't matter whether they appreciated it or not. And that was when I fully embraced my completion of the final stage of grieving. When I accepted the loss, and when happiness and contentment fully sank in... and deep in my core, I knew those things were here to stay. I haven't stopped smiling since.
So, I'm finishing 2025, happy, healthy, surrounded by good, deep, solid friendships. My daughter and son-in-law, and friends are happy, healthy, and doing well. My work is progressing, as is my writing. I'm finding fulfillment and gratitude everywhere I look.
I'm ready to put the past behind me and move into 2026 with the new, happy me and with gratitude for 2025 and all it's lessons, all of its growth, and all of the joy and happiness now in my life!
My friend Susan Scrupski wrote this song, it's called Hello You (recently rereleased on her new album Saloon Life), and it's about finding herself. It's one of my favorite songs because, well, it resonates so strongly. So, to that end, enjoy!