Lamenting Some Losses

This post was written on a laptop computer on a picnic table at Orchid Campsite #39 in the Lake Michigan Recreation Area of the Manistee National Forest on September 2.

As I laugh and play with and scold and yell at my four beautiful children, my awesome, advanced, amazing charges, I can’t help thinking that my firstborn should be here, in this forest, at this campground, on this beach.

I didn’t take Amelia camping. I didn’t leave a strong enough mark on her, or influence her enough, or make myself as important or essential to her as I should have. If I had, she probably wouldn’t have unfriended me in Facebook which, sadly, served to end all communication between us. Again.

Sure, I could call or send a text message or try to refriend her or send her a letter. I’ve done all those things before. But to be honest, I’d rather be estranged than continuously rejected. I’d rather be a victim than a stalker to be humored and ultimately ignored.

Bryant wants me in his life for sure. Even though I sometimes irritate and embarrass him, he likes it better when I’m sitting in my camping chair on the sidelines at football practice than when I’m not.

Nikita and Maya and Devina love me too, although we all know I’m less important to them. When given the choice between hanging with Mommy or their Fat Daddy Pat, they always choose The Woman Who Gave Them Life. Go figure.

I know how lucky I am to have this chance to parent these kids, to attend their school orientations, to help them grow and learn, to help shape and guide and console them. My divorce made it hard for me to do these things for Amelia. Still, I always feel bad, in the back of my mind, that I apparently screwed up so much the first time I did the Daddy thing.

I sold my Chrysler LeBaron, my pretty four-door sedan with the cushy seats, through Craigslist the other day. It was just gathering dust and taking up space in the garage since I drive Anita’s late father’s Buick Century now, and I got a fair price for it since it needed some work. The sale proved more emotional than I had anticipated, though, for two reasons: it had been my late, beloved grandmother’s car, and Amelia had accompanied me to Georgia – where my grandma had lived – to pick the car up and drive it back to Michigan, back when Amelia was still a kid and she still loved and needed and cherished me. Back when she was still my little girl.

Now my grandma and my oldest daughter and my LeBaron are all gone.