it would be easier to believe i'm one or the other, but i'm just sort of sad right now.
the day wasn't bad, and it wasn't good. i woke up, a blessing. i bent my knees to pray, another blessing. i got Syd to her bus stop for her last day of school. her last day of school ever, as far as K-12 goes. and that's where it begins for me today.
i have some tears in my eyes right now, finally. no tears when i'm doing what needs to be done, no tears before those who are engineering their own sociopathy. but now, i feel it. i feel that day, February 18, 1999. Syd's mom in distress, about to deliver. Her mom's mom there for backup. going to Grant hospital downtown. I had my uncle's camcorder, i wanted to record the birth. but there was no recording. Syd was cut from her mother's stomach, they don't let you record that shit, or at least they didn't let me record it. lot of blood. television makes it all look so clean...Chris had gestational diabetes, so Syd was born with high sugar, with high blood pressure and an irregular heartbeat. right into special care. my thought was, she's not going to make it. i don't know why that was my first thought. Chris and I were through, just going through the motions. i figured maybe this was the point where it all ended for me. i know this is a narcissistic reiteration, but i have no other perspective to tell it from. i sat in front of the city library with my friend, Delia, smoking. i told her what was in my real heart...that if Sydney died, i didn't want to stay sober and might not want to live. live for what? Rabid humans had preyed on my relationship beneath a rainbow banner, tearing up any foundation before we could get it laid. truthfully, it wasn't being put in all that well anyway; insecurity and distrust, and began under the premise of band-aids for bullet wounds. nothing is going to work very well when you start with shitty blueprints.
but Syd lived, and i stayed alive. I was the first to hold my daughter. she held my finger. i know they say babies can't see shit when they're fresh from the womb, but i know we connected. i knew then that we were in this ride til the end. Chris was wheeled into the special care, but there was a baby in distress and they wheeled her right back out. i was there holding Syd, feeding her from her first bottle.
a year in. work and daycare, arguments and two older, miserable children. a year in, and Chris and I separated. I prayed to Jehovah, 'your will be done'. i told Chris, if she wanted Syd, I would pay whatever was necessary, i wouldn't fight, i felt she would do well to raise at least one child from birth. Chris decided to take DeJa and move, and I could keep Syd. it was the answer to my prayer, but some prayers come with heavy answers. the responsibility for a baby was too much for her at that point, i believe. she was partying quite a bit, adjusting to her new 'life'style. i ended up with DeJa as well, finished the task begun of showing him that a male friend who steered him in better directions didn't need to be 'daddy'. Daddy was a title to be earned; friendship was his right in this world. we became good friends. he helped raise his sister, as best as a growing boy could.
Syd in the interim of DeJa's return learned to grieve. if you want to see something break your heart over and over, watch a child wander from room to room, wondering where its family is. it's sad when you watch a pet grieving a lost owner. it's tragic when you watch a child trying to fathom a family gone. Syd has not yet recovered from that, but she may yet. we moved from a townhouse with 3 bedrooms, a bath and a half, full basement, patio and drive off the alley to a three bedroom one floor apartment. Syd was right across the hall from me, so she could at least have that comfort. then DeJa came back, and we were a family again. it was hard times, but we learned and we grew. and then the fiasco at Menendians, losing that job, being unable to get another decent job, and having the depression of never having a moment to hit a reset button finally land with both feet on me.
i thought of suicide constantly again. i was studying with Jehovah's Witnesses across the street from me, but it did no good. i had children i couldn't feed, bills i couldn't pay and a life that was a series of failures. my thought? force the kids on their mother and pull the plug.
instead, i ended up back here, youngstown, ohio. the adventure here has been more one of discovering who i want to be than growing. i got Syd into school, and while her initial hopes were bright, she gave up on the idea of having anything of her own early on. she stopped smiling, stopped being accessible. she wanted her family back; she wanted to be wanted. and i couldn't make her wanted by the person that she wanted that from. i'd say needed, but time has proved otherwise. the slide was continuous though. i'd found work at West communications, and for almost two years, i did a good job. then the years of neglect and poor health culminated in a bout of congestive heart failure, and i was on my ass. they fired me while i lay in the hospital, thinking i might be dying, and for a change, not wanting to. i ended up on disability. we moved to an apartment because Syd and my mom were driving me crazy. Syd went from a good student to barely doing any work. anything she thought would get her sent to her mother. never understanding that i had never kept her from her mother, because understanding that brought about an even harder, harsher reality. counseling, Belmont Pines, police, drugs, cigarette smoking, gender and identity issues, cutting, opening herself up to find that life was not a toy, not a prize wheel, but a dealing with and doing what you can. we lived, we got by. the landlord changed, we got by. changed again, we got by.
at the end of this road, she has finished. today was the last day of school. we are not living together, but it's not as bad as all that. but it is sad. in my mind, this would have been a day for a cake, a candle, a wish of spirit. instead, its her wherever she is, and me in this basement, writing our story from my perspective.
you hold the reins. life is a horse that cannot be broken. it cannot be subdued. not by human means. so you ride, until you can ride no more. it doesn't depend on skill, it doesn't depend on experience, because from the outset no one has any more or any less experience than anyone else. you get some asshole like Trump, but he is an orchestrated asshole, never taught any better and thinking that money is the experience to ride the horse. but his time has the same limitations as anyone else's. you take some pretty good guy, like MLK jr, whose time seemed to be cut short, but who filled his ride with all the things worthwhile that he could, in a cause that was head and shoulders above a would-be tyrant and an inept president. and you take someone with no fame, no fortune, no riches, no excess, who lives surrounded by love and family and has 10 decades on the earth of pretty decent health and smiles by the truckful, and you ask yourself, who had the best ride, for real?
i'm not done. Syd's not done with me, and i'm not done with her. the tears started, but they didn't fall. i have to get back to work. i have to get my life back. i have to be the person Jehovah wants me to be. is it Z-Phyles? i don't know. is it Rachel as my wife? i can't say. i only know that i got Syd grown, out of school. i only know i didn't get thrown on that particular leg of the ride. and for that, my gratitude is boundless to my God.
we'll see what tomorrow brings when it gets here. good things, bad things, indifferent things...a serious moment, or time to play? for this breath, thank you, Father.
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