So just so you know, my precious readers and listeners, I will be jumping around between the past and present within this story. Probably my favorite TV show of all time is Breaking Bad, which did a fantastic job of going back in time, giving you glimpses of the present, and sometimes starting episodes with the future. It was so superbly written. I aspire to get to that level someday.
So let me take you back to about four and a half years before this Poconos trip. Don’t worry I promise I won’t leave you hanging on whether the police were calling me or not. Next chapter you will find out for sure. But let me digress and tell you about the second worst day of my life.
When I tell you what THE worst day of my life is- and I promise I will- an argument could be made that nothing could be worse than the second worst day that I am about to describe. And to that I say: to each his or her own. Sometimes I go back and forth between them myself, and I will explain later why they are ranked 1 and 2, but- as of right now- let me describe Worse Day #2.
I was standing in the kitchen of my house at that time (four and a half years ago) with my then 8-year old daughter Haley, my wife at the time (now my ex) holding my 3-year old son Craft, and my extremely high blood pressure. I’m pretty sure I don’t have high blood pressure, but the circumstance I am about to describe would definitely affect a man’s body temperature.
See, this is not a nice family morning kitchen breakfast over Cinnamon Toast Crunch and some orange juice. No, I just got caught cheating (and this is not the first time either) and I am about to tell my daughter and my son- the two most important living things in the world- that I am moving out and getting a divorce. Never to return.
Now let’s break this actual event down for a minute. I’m not sure about you, but I am not a braggart. In fact, I hate people who brag. Women who like to talk about themselves are usually the most insecure females living. Men who brag about themselves usually have small penises. You get my drift. But I LOVE being a Dad. And if there is anything I can brag about, it would be that if there was an Olympic Father Competition, I would definitely medal. (See that’s how you brag humbly. Saying I would “medal” at the OFC means MAYBE two Dads would get Gold and Silver over my Bronze medal. But chances of those two punks beating me are slim.) I just always wanted to be a father since I was a kid and I don’t even know why. But when you dream about it for years and your dream comes true, you relish in that real-life dream and hope you never wake up. Well that’s what I did for the last 8 years. And I kicked butt at it. My daughter and I were inseperable. When she was born, my life changed forever and she was a little girl I loved more than anything else. From grocery shopping every Sunday, to tuck-in kisses every night, to blasting Justin Bieber and High School Musical songs in the car- we did it all. I even slid in some G-rated, clean Snoop Dogg tunes to be cool. Snoooooooo-OOOP! My son- even though his sister had 5 extra years of bonding with me by herself- he still had me wrapped around his little chubby finger. I was so happy he was a boy and now I have two kids I love more than life itself. I basically raised him because I had a flexible job while his mother had the 9 to 5. I took him to mortgage meetings as a baby and his cuteness helped me close deals. His hilarious, creative self cracked me up all day. We watched a lot of SpongeBob and Michigan football games together before he could talk.
And now….all that comes to a loud, abrupt, screeching halt.
Divorced Dads know what I’m talking about, but to everyone else- let that sink in for a minute. Like falling from the sky forever and hitting the ground hard- the dream is over. The one thing you have worked so hard to be the best at- now you suck at it. Hard. You didn’t even make the trials of the OFC this time and there will never be a next time with my children. This is Daddy putting an end to his family. I was rarely happy in my marriage so the end was probably long overdue, but this WAS the end. Forever.
The crazy part is that I wasn’t really sad about my marriage being over. I was sad about-and for- my kids. Sad about disappointing them. Sad I had to give back my medal for cheating. Sad I couldn’t tuck them in at night anymore. And sad for them because now their mom got to do all that without me. Kids should have a father in their life daily. I didn’t have one for most of my childhood and it kinda sucked. I’ve said it before: It is never the kids fault and yet, they have to pay dearly for a crappy marriage. Not fair to them at all.
So there I was. My soon-to-be ex just dropped the bomb that we were getting a divorce and that Daddy was moving out. Now even though my daughter Haley was only 8, she was smart as a whip and knew what “divorce” meant.
“No Daddy!! No!!” she cried, repeating that over and over. She had her arms around my waist tightly- with no plans of letting go. I’m rubbing her sweet brown hair and precious little head, fighting the tears.
“I’m so sorry, babygirl,” I say as I hug her tightly. I look over to her mom and she is crying but she also has a “this is all your fault” look/smirk on her face. Divorce is rarely one person’s fault, but she doesn’t want to be at fault today. It’s National Daddy Sucks Day.
“Daddy is not going far and I’m going to see you as often as I can. If I have to pick you up from the school bus every day, I will.”
This day is so hard to re-live. Maybe it is the worst day ever. Geez. For what seemed like an eternity but was probably an hour, I have to endure countless “No Daddy! No!” screams, tears, smirks, and blood pressure increases. My son Craft is fairly emotionless. He’s only 3, so he’s pretty confused about what’s going on. I see him watch his sad sister and make some unhappy faces of his own.
Somehow, with many promises that I wasn’t disappearing forever and several hugs and kisses to my kids, I managed to escape that kitchen.
I close the door and take a deep breath of the crisp Autumn air. A flood of emotional sadness comes over me and I just break down and cry. My knees buckle and my legs begin to shake to the point where I almost fall over. I barely make it to my car and when I close the door I scream so loud it hurts my throat, pounding the dashboard. My poor, poor kids. What will they do without me? And less importantly, where the hell do I go?