Spiritual Renewal, Pt. 2

I meant to write this post on Monday, but I got laid the fuck out with the flu for a couple of days. [update] I've now been trying to finish this post for a week.

I left off talking about my slow slide into emotional oblivion regarding my father's death. I don't know that I've hit rock bottom with this thing yet, I'd like to think that I have, but it seems kind of unlikely based on what others have told me about dealing with the death of a parent.

I had been feeling shitty (not physically, emotionally) all last week, but the lone bright spot was that Ta-Nehisi Coates had a book signing coming up in College Park that I planned to attend. If you haven't read his book "The Beautiful Struggle" run, don't walk, to your nearest book store and pick up a copy. Just like I try not to be too hard on stupid motherfuckers, I also try not to sweat dudes too much that I think are cool, smart, tough, or whatever. I mean, no one wants to be a dick rider, right?

But rules are made to be broken, so here goes the one time you will catch me on someone's tip like this. I won't go so far as to say this is the best book that I've ever read or that it's my favorite book of all time; I'll need to read and re-read the book several more times before I'll be comfortable making that pronouncement, but this book did speak to me in a way that no other book I have ever read has.

In the same way that "Catcher in the Rye" has been a cultural touchstone for generations or "I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings" is practically required reading for teenagers, "The Beautiful Struggle" deserves a place in the pantheon of great American coming of age stories. "The Beautiful Struggle" is an instant classic, written in a unique style that seamlessly melds literature and hip-hop into a brilliant narrative about fathers, sons, and the journey from boy to man.

Needless to say, I was very excited to meet Ta-Nehisi at his book signing. When I arrived I saw Ta-Nehisi browsing through the store so I approached him and introduced myself. I shared all of the thoughts above with him and he seemed to be truly humbled and grateful that his book evoked such a strong reaction from me. As cool as it was to meet Ta-Nehisi, it was a total mind blower to meet his father, Mr. Paul Coates, who was there that evening. Even though I had only read the book a few months before I had forgotten how funny it was and it took on a whole new life when I heard its author reading it in his own voice.

BigDaddyRat was a man who loved to read and he shared that love with me, it was one of the many, many gifts he gave me over the course of our time together. In some ways, I guess my upbringing led me to (incorrectly) believe that I was the only young Black man out there that was into Sci-Fi, that liked to read, and saw no disconnect with those things and being Black. So in that context it was reassuring and comforting to be at that book signing, to know that "The Beautiful Struggle" spoke to others in the same that it spoke to me.

Being at Vertigo with some other Black men of letters was exactly what I needed that evening. It gave me a sense of spiritual renewal to feel, to know, that no matter how isolated I may feel or be at a given moment, that I'm a link in a chain.

I had a rough couple of weeks, but for the time being I'm on the upswing.

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Spiritual Renewal, Pt. 1

Since the Super Bowl, I've been drying out a bit; partly in sympathy with my pregnant wife and partly 'cause I had really been getting after it for the last couple of months. Like DC, Fargo is a hard drinking city. Out there it's rare to go to someone's home and not be offered a beer at pretty much any time of the day or night, I was very much at home out there. The drinking culture of Fargo combined with an intense desire to avoid my feelings about BigDaddyRat's death led me to "self medicate" as they say. It's not like I was walking around hammered all the time, but rare was the day when I didn't have a drink or five.

I knew that the full force of my Father's death wouldn't really hit me until we got back to DC. Even though I'm mostly convinced it was to my benefit, I'm still debating whether or not it's a good or bad thing that I was in Fargo when Dad died. Fargo was my own personal la-la land, a working vacation where I didn't have to deal with real life and could largely avoid my family and situations that would make me think of my Dad.

As I finished squeezing whatever residual buzz was still in my liver over the last couple of weeks I started feeling worse and worse. I haven't been getting shit done at work, I haven't been taking care of other shit I need to get done, and I've generally been kind of zoned out and quiet. I manage to muster up some chit-chat with other parents when I'm out at the park with BabyRat, but whenever I'm not directly engaged with someone I easily get lost in my own thoughts.

I've buried four grandparents and a few other relatives and family friends that I was varying degrees of close with, so I thought that I knew how to handle death pretty well. Even so, I found myself unprepared for the emotional weight of the sudden (and very unexpected) death of my Father. Thankfully the last time we saw each other we had shared a couple of laughs and told each other "I love you", but we still had some serious unfinished business between us that will now never be resolved.

Ever the generous spirit, Dad had started us down the road towards setting things straight with an off-hand remark not too long before we left for Fargo. I had meant to go have lunch with him before we left town, but when we kept having schedule conflicts I didn't make it a priority. I just assumed that we had all the time we needed to finally put all our bullshit to bed. So if anyone reading this has something they need to get right with their parents or anyone else in their life, I'm begging you DO IT NOW!!! Do not wait, do not assume that you will have an opportunity to get to it later because that may not be the case.

So the point of me telling you all of this, was that I've been feeling down the last couple of weeks. Not some melodramatic, "My father died and I'm gonna spend the rest of my life regretting XYZ," nonsense; but more like I'm just really bummed the fuck out that he's gone. I won't ever get to whip his monkey ass out on the golf course again, he won't get to meet my second kid, and we'll never get to work together again and get it right this time. I don't have regrets, but I'm wistful about the future that we had been envisioning for ourselves that's never going to come now.

This post was about the trip down, next post will be about heading back up again.

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#2

I think everyone who should know already knows so I can go ahead and post about this now, but WifeRat is pregnant again. We're all excited and happy to be adding to our family, especially BabyRat who is eagerly anticipating her new role as a big sister. WifeRat's baby bump is noticeable now and BR & myself spend a good part of each evening rubbing on it and telling "Sprinkle" (so named because that's how big the baby was, the size of a sprinkle, when we told BabyRat) how excited we are to meet them when they arrive the first week in July. I use a gender neutral "they" 'cause we keep it old school and don't find out the baby's sex until they're born.

I'm not a weird-o with a pregnancy fetish, but my wife is never so beautiful to me as she is when she's pregnant and aglow with the light of a new life inside her.

The life of a family man who is doing right by his fam is not an easy one. One of the advantages that men have over women is that we have the luxury of acknowledging our conflicting feelings about family life without being made to feel guilty about our occasional ambivalence. Unlike my wife, I have no problem saying, "Yo, shit is too hectic for me I'm going out with the fellas for a couple of cocktails tonight." I feel no shame for saying that my wife and kid are getting on my nerves and quite honestly I don't know why any woman would have a problem saying that either, but it seems like they do.

Right now I'm worried about what this second child is going to cost me. Not financially (I already know the answer to that: a fuckload), but in terms of how much of my life is left for me. Part of my feelings right now have to do with the time of the year. When rugby ends in the Fall sometime in early November, the holidays follow soon after, and then the NFL playoffs come right after that. The holidays and football provide me with some built-in excuses to go chill and get a couple of hours to myself every week, but once football season is over there's usually about 4-6 weeks before rugby starts up again where I'm just kind of stuck in the house all the time and tend to get a bit stir crazy. But there's more to it than just that right now.

I've got a pregnant wife, a three year-old who's getting ready to lose her status as the center of the universe, and a Mother who is grieving the loss of her husband of over 40 years. All of these people need me right now and they all need a lot from me, more than they usually do. I work hard for my family and to continue to work hard for them I need time and space to recharge my batteries, those things are in short supply these days. I feel as if I'm no one's priority right now; I'm getting ready to have a second kid and I'm still dealing with my Father's death, but that seems to pass by most of the people in my life almost without notice.

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Pain That Won't Go Away

Yesterday I wrote that I'm glad this shit is over; but as I have been so many times before, I was completely and totally wrong. The aftermath of BDR's death isn't over, it's only just beginning.

We (Mom, Sis, and I) are all so hurting and confused right now that it feels like this might not ever be over. Did I mention that I've been on a roller coaster of emotions the last few days?

Part of what makes this so difficult was the sudden and unexpected way that my Father passed away. BigDaddyRat was a large and vital man, he had survived two wars (Vietnam and Panama) and still exercised regularly. He had put on a few pounds since he got out of the Army, but was still in pretty decent shape for a guy that was almost 65 years old. Even after Dad had blown out both of his knees and was hobbling around on walker, the last thing anyone expected was for him to suddenly drop dead. I guess I should explain what happened.

BDR worked for AM General as the "Director of Government Relations," which means that he was a weird kind of lobbyist. He used his extensive contacts within the military to assess and analyze their transportation needs as they related to AM General and their line of products. He would then explain those needs to his colleagues at AM General which would allow them to market vehicles to the military (the Army in particular) more aggressively and effectively.

What this also means is that a big part of BDR's job was taking guys out to lunch and playing golf. It's nice work if you can get it. So he was out at a golf course in Maryland, but because the course was kind of soggy it was cart paths only that day. While walking out to what turned out to be the last golf ball he ever hit, BDR slipped and blew out his patella tendon. Then while he was at Walter Reed to get the final word on what needed to be done, he slipped and blew out the other knee in the exact same way and as an added bonus he tore his rotator cuff while trying to catch himself. Yes, you are reading that correctly; as a result of a round of golf, the COL blew out two knees and a shoulder. When I saw him in the hospital after the fact, he joked that he was one more accident away from being a quadriplegic. After getting the two knees fixed and coming home from the hospital, BDR left this mortal coil when a blood clot entered his lung (pulmonary embolism) and took the big man down.

Now there had initially been some hysterical talk of law suits for wrongful death, etc. but I wasn't really with it. Subsequently I found out that UncleRat (BDR's youngest brother, a Federal prosecutor) has been advocating this position as well. I have the utmost respect for UncleRat as a person and as a professional, so if he's the one saying it I guess we have to at least consider this law suit thing one last time.

It's not like any of us are hurting for money and hitting the Tort Law lotto is the only chance we have for a financially happy life. I think the real motivation is that we want someone to blame. Dad's death is leaving a gaping void in the life of everyone that knew him and I think many of us want someone to suffer financially or professionally thinking that it will make us feel better, but it won't. Dad will still be dead, my Mom will still be a widow, and all that would have really changed is that some lawyer would get a new Porsche out of the deal.

Yesterday one of my close friends was speaking ill of Walter Reed AMC, but I don't blame the folks that work there and I told him so. The real deal is that the facilities and staff of WRAMC are overloaded. For the last 16 years we have been whittling down our military and its resources to the bare bones, thinking that the collapse of the Soviet Union meant there wasn't going to be another large-scale war. The smackdown we laid on Saddam during Desert Storm further convinced our nation and its leaders that our military was more or less invincible, so we cut people and we closed facilities and now we are paying the price.

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