I'll Let You Know

There comes a certain point when it starts being silly to think you wish your parents were still around. My dad, for example, would be 103 years old. People live that long, from time to time, but he wouldn't be the guy that I remember. Mom would be 95. Ditto on her.

But, of course, when you say you wish your parents were still around, you don't mean "at the age they'd be." You mean "the way that I remember them." My wife has four parents (originals divorced, so two steps, in a rather remarkably successful, albeit also problematic, family structure). She also has a sister she's close to. I have a sister, but we're not close. I have a son. He changed his name.

So my wife calls, or is called by, four parents and a sister fairly often. I don't get called by anyone. Well, my son called, after he changed his name. He seems to be distantly aware that I don't have much to talk with him about anymore. Maybe I should talk to him. But it's hard to be conversational with someone you raised with his mother, your wife, after he has done everything in his power to make sure he has no discernable connection to you.

This all means I'm feeling a bit lonely. Now, being honest, I'll say I was never a big holiday-gathering person before. My mom always made this sickening dessert item called a "blintz" at Christmas. I suppose it became mostly psychological in origin, but my reaction when made to eat one was to gag. Literally, like my stomach would heave and I'd nearly throw up. She knew this, but made me eat one every single year. So, around this time, we'd all be saying, "Christmas is coming! Yay!" Except I'd be wondering if she was going to make blintzes again, or would this be the year she stopped? She stopped when I went to college. Or, at least, I made it clear I wasn't eating the fucking things anymore.

Okay, so clearly "home for the holidays" wasn't this big source of familial joy for me. It's just working out that I am stuck with some acute reasons to know I'm without any meaningful family outside my home. And, blintzes being only once a year and all, I do remember some times I miss. We used to get dinner sometimes, at the Army/Navy Country Club, in Arlington, when I was little. (The club, which is not a taxpayer funded thing in any way, was founded 100 years ago this year, btw.) I rode in the back of our big white "Chrysler car," as we always called it.

There was a stream that ran over the road in a place called "Rock Creek Park." It was always a fun part of those outings to drive oh-so-slowly right through it. I'd always put on my blue blazer when we'd go. It was a big deal, just going there. It felt kind of important, and grown up, and special.

That's what I wish were still here. That family. I don't have it now, not even with my own offspring.

Dad passed away 28 years ago. Mom was nine years ago. I get that it never stops hurting. I had been wondering when I'd stop feeling bad about not being able to reinvent my childhood. Now it's not a "when" question anymore. It's an "if" question. Check back with me in a while. I'll let you know.