It’s happened. I’m old. Maybe not by calendar years, but it’s as true as the sun rising tomorrow. Childhood left me many years ago, or perhaps, I left my childhood. But this is different. This is the loss of my youth, my youthfulness.
My reflection peered back at me from the bathroom mirror at my 80’s style office building complete with security badge and leather briefcase. My reflection grayer. Not only does my skin seem grayer, but for the first time in my life, I saw more than one gray hair. It’s well earned, I presume. The gray streaks that hide themselves nicely among my brown and blonde pelt. These I can only guess were gathered from the inevitable wear and tear of walking with my father down a path that inevitably lead to my feeling of half-orphan-hood now.
I can’t help but wonder if I have now crossed over to some level of undesirability. If I have somehow managed to accrue enough baggage (and resulting grays) to make any potential future partner shy away from the level of complexity in my life. I do not desire or wish for a savior. I would scoff at anyone who spent one moment trying to coddle me. But the loss of my father has left me feeling more alone than I ever have in my life. I wonder if anyone will ever understand me so clearly again, just by the sound of my breath. Or me understand them by the sound of theirs. It is an immeasurable loss, masked by brave faces, and the resilient desire to carry on.
I’m not sure how long it takes for joy to come so easily again after a loss like this. I hope that day will arrive. I know my dad would want it too; I just miss him so much. Love you Daddy, always.