A Father's Tears

Busy week: physical therapy appointments to try to get the somewhat permanent crick out of my neck, writer's group, Sisters in Crime, MWA, Kate's party, Holiday letter, cards, presents, walks, cooking, baking, 247 words for Ms. Snark, decorating, toastmaster's, etc. Life is busy, life is good.

But the days are dark with the world racing toward the Solstice and I want to sleep ten hours every night. Is this normal? The cat and I, buried in the bed, in dream-filled sleep. It's been a week of many dreams, dreams with the children very young, and that means I must be young, too.

It's the time of year when the past comes crashing back in on one, and even when the past is good, maybe especially when the past is good, the knowledge that the past is also gone is inescapable. And that knowledge provokes sadness. I think of all the Christmases past, with parents, grandparents, all gone. I wonder who will take the old ornaments, the candle holders, the decorations, the wonderful stuff of holidays when I'm gone. And I want to sit in the middle of the mess of half-done decorating and memories and howl. And then of course I get mad at myself, as if that will help. Yesterday, I decided that now that I am that last generation, it is my turn to create all the good memories and times for the young, that they can look back on someday. If I provide a wonderful memorable present, someday it will be a cherished past. But the lump in my throat stays.

Peggy Noonan had a wonderful essay in yesterday's (Dec. 9th) Wall Street Journal. Titled, "A Father's Tears," she wrote of George H.S. Bush breaking into tears during a speech last week. I know just how he felt. She writes, "growing older can leave you more exposed to the force of whatever it is you're feling. Defenses erode like a fence worn by time. But what you feel can surprise you." She goes on to talk of moments, even fragments of moments, and how we can suddenly be "mugged by memory." Ask Proust. Definitely ask Proust.

Maybe we all have a mild case of SAD. I know I'll be much happy when the days are longer. In the meantime, cherish the happy memories that make you sad. Whatever.

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