It’s been a couple of powerful days in San Diego following a very full month.
In this moment, I no longer feel so capable of weathering the difficult emotions in and around me. I’m not sure why, but it feels beyond my capacity to sustain my strength. I guess I’m growing weary of being a good father, a dutiful husband and a hardworking teaching artist. It’s a lot.
I was okay yesterday when 15 or so of us gathered to laugh and tell stories about our deceased friend, Weston. Beginning this morning, though, the day of the funeral and his celebration of life, I no longer had any more of my already-taxed, emotional bandwidth to spare.
Sigh.
As I was writing the above, two women stopped by and asked if I was the father of the young woman who spoke so beautifully about her lost love. They were very touched (as was most everyone in the room) by her emotional, poetic, truthful, sad and grateful offering. The two women said, “great job, Dad,” to me. Well, there is that.
Since March 9, we’ve been living through an onslaught, a perfect storm, powerful and persistent from the mountains of New York to the streets of Guatemala City. It didn’t level us, though. We are still standing, supporting our daughter.
And while this trip to California has gone smoothly, while there’s been prayers and words of encouragement aplenty from you and others, I’m more than a little exhausted of being Superman.
So, yeah. I have a right to sit in a corner and say, “Enough!” This is the moment I recognize, I’m just tired of “being there” for my family and the kids we serve. I’m a human being, not a human doing – something I tell others and need to realize for myself.
Sigh.
The sun is setting over the Pacific. I’ll get a shot for you.
Fortunately, no one is approaching me to be different than I am. The sun is setting down on me (and us) and feeling forlorn is just fine.
The rest of the crowd is heading to the beach for music around a bonfire. That’s a beautiful way to spend time with loved ones. Me? I’m going to hit the sack before waking up at 3:30 to drive a few people to the airport. Like Weston taught me, the road I take is my choice.
