I'll Keep This World from Draggin' me Down

I love the smell of fall: the way the cooler weather, crisp mornings and fallen leaves come together to make a beautiful potpourri. This year's heat has made the arrival of autumn later, but it's still there. As much as I love the warmth of summer, I love the crispness of fall even more. The last few years, however, this time of year reminds me of my dad. It reminds me of emerging from long days in the hospital, my eyes blinking to adjust from florescent light to the brilliant autumn sky. It reminds me of the impossible pain of standing in my closet picking out clothes for my father's funeral. It reminds me that two years ago my son was only 10 months old, barely pulling himself up at Grandma and Pap Pap's house. It reminds me that my dad didn't get to see that amazing little baby turn into a wonderful little boy.

I'm typing this at 3:32 a.m. You know...like you do. I've become a bit of an insomniac of late. My mind doesn't shut off like I need it to these days. And while I am tired during the day, it's actually not that bad. On mornings like this one when I can make myself get out of bed to do something instead of aimlessly tossing and turning I actually feel relatively productive.

About an hour ago my son woke up having peed through his bed. We let him drink too much milk at bed time. We know the culprit and haven't yet done anything to change it. I was almost back to sleep when I heard him laughing. I waited a minute and tiptoed back into his room to find him fast asleep. I do that too: laugh in my sleep. Sometimes I will wake myself up laughing. I'm reminded again that so much of parenting is nurture, and it helps alleviate the heaviness I feel this week.

I realize it's been a shit week on a much larger scale than my sadness. The nation's worst ever mass shooting, the death of a music legend. My dwelling on my sad anniversary and finding out I have a torn meniscus (I'll get back there in a second) is so small in the larger sense of the grief so many are feeling right now. I have so much for which I am thankful, but it's hard not to breathe in the autumn air and feel my chest constrict. 

I could've sworn at some point I wrote a blog titled "I Won't Back Down". Apparently I have not. Maybe it just rattled around in my head and I never actually wrote anything. I'm not a huge Tom Petty fan, but there are several songs of his that I love (that being one of them). Like my dad Petty was 66 when he died. I think of the way his family is feeling, and my heart hurts. I think of the more than 50 people who died in Las Vegas earlier this week. I hate that their families will associate the beautiful late autumn sun with the day their family members died. 

Through grief and loss my outlet has always been running. On this, the second anniversary of my father's death and a shitty week in America, I do not have my outlet. I got a call from my sports medicine doctor yesterday, and an MRI from last week shows I have a torn meniscus. Two months of PT did not do the trick, and I see an orthopedic surgeon next week. On one hand I'm happy to have an answer and ready to have a plan. On the other hand my body is full of pent up energy that is keeping me awake, pounding the keyboard at 3:44 a.m. The insomnia has definitely coincided with my inability to run. No form of low-impact exercise has been able to quiet the chaos in my mind.

I am so grateful for myriad blessings in this crazy life. I am grateful for the 38 years I got with my dad. I am grateful that in times of sadness my family deals with laughter. I am grateful to be so much like my father. I am grateful for perspective in sadness. 

This hurts my heart.

Sunday will be two years without my dad as the head of this family. In a week where so many families are wracked with grief, I hope they find laughter. I hope they find solace in the beauty of autumn. And in a world that keeps on pushing us around, I hope we all stand our ground.