Wee Hours

It's 4:30 in the morning and the birds have begun their pre-dawn chorus. Penny and I have just come in from the rain. She ate her breakfast while I made a cup of coffee and has settled down next to the chair where I sit in the dark, smelling coffee and wet fur and the cool morning breeze coming in through the window with the birdsong.

And I realize just how much I have become my father.

This pre-dawn ritual is the most powerful image I have of him. As far back as I can remember this was his hour. Kids and wife in bed. Just him and a dog (or two or three, depending on the constellation of our pack at the time) listening to the birds, cup of coffee in hand, looking out over the lagoon watching the nocturnal animals making their way home as the day shift crew began to rustle from its slumber.

Sometimes I would get up and sit next to him and sometimes I would just lay in bed and catch the whiff of coffee while listening to the clack of nails as the dogs followed him to his chair and his murmuring to them about what good puppies they were. Even as a child, the pre-dawn hours were always my favorite.

When I was old enough to work with him as an office/warehouse girl this morning routine was followed by a long drive from Gary, Indiana to Chicago, past industrial smokestacks, train yards, steel mills, over the Chicago Skyway as the sun was just about to rise (or long before the sun if it were winter), merging into the Dan Ryan and exiting on 59th by St. Martin's church where my mother was baptized. It's a beautiful church from the outside but the neighborhood is such that I was always told I could not safely venture in. Just a few blocks away to Halsted, and in later years to Ashland, we'd unlock the heating and air conditioning warehouse, start the coffee, scatter the city rats with the flicking on of the light switches (common to every warehouse in Chicago winters so you didn't think much of it after a while), and an hour later the workers would arrive, as would the donuts, bad jokes, playful insults, loud bellyaching from the foremen and such a string of colorful curses and nicknames as you just don't hear anymore, what with political correctness and all. The coffee was awful, the building was too cold in winter, too hot in summer and everyone smoked at their desks, amid stacks of carbon layered invoices, Rolodexes and air conditioner spec sheets.

I loved every bit of it.

I was even given my own nickname by Vicki, the office manager and my boss, "K.D." It stood for Kid Dynamite. I was a hard worker and fast and earned her respect so quickly she insisted I be given a raise my third day on the job.

Dad's nickname for me was Bugs, or Bugger, or Bugger Wugger. He called me that all through the years right to the end.

Michael was a nickname giver, too, as I think all hockey players are. He gave me a million of them.

"K.D." fell away years ago after I went to college and no longer worked with my Dad. The rest of my nicknames fell away last year. No one calls me Bugs now and I doubt anyone will take to calling me Chidvalasananda any time soon.

It's another one of those things that you don't think about, like how you won't be hearing "Bugger Wugger!" in that happy way Dad would answer the phone anymore. I grew up in a nickname culture but I don't live in one anymore. I wish I could tell you what losing that means, but I don't know if I can quite express it. It's a certain kind of affection...there was a specialness to it. There was a sense of belonging that came with it, maybe like a secret handshake. But now the clubhouse has been torn down and no one knows the secret handshakes anymore.

++++++

I couldn't sleep last night.

If you want to know the truth, I couldn't sleep because I was feeling sorry for myself. It took a long time for me to realize it, but it finally dawned on me that I was lonely.

I've never felt lonely before.

Ever.

I'm 48 years old, so that tells you how fortunate I have been.

What am I lonely for?

This is where I turn into a total ball of contradictions. Mostly I'm lonely for the family that I lost and the friends that have dropped off in the past couple years. My sister moved back from Portland which had me entertaining visions of rekindled relationships and time with my niece and nephew but the truth is she is part of her husband's family now and the days of the kids calling to talk to me and wanting to spend time with us have passed, teenagers having better things to do. I understand all of it but I'm still lonely for them. Kids grow up fast. We all say it all the time but for those of us who are peripheral in their lives...the distant relatives...it's hard to see the season of us pass.

My other sister has been intending to come up from Tennessee ever since Dad died but she hasn't made it in yet and I'm suspecting she won't for quite some time yet. She had to miss his memorial dinner but wants to spread his ashes with me. He'll wait for her. So will I.

My brother...at our best we are cordial, at our worst I irritate him to the point he decides to disown me, which he has done several times. Right now we are cordial and will stay that way as long as I don't step too hard on any egg shells. That's never easy for me but I have another niece and nephew whose relationship with me depends on my getting better at it so I'll keep trying.

All of this leaves me feeling like I'm trying to stitch together a cloth so worn that every time I poke the needle in for another stitch the fabric tears somewhere else. Too often I find myself trying to find a way to be okay with the possibility that I may go months, even years, without seeing my nieces and nephews as they get older and the reasons for my family to try to weave together grow more and more thin.

Like I said, I was feeling sorry for myself.

Self-pity doesn't mean I'm not being realistic. The fact is, we don't have a hub in our family and I seem to be the only one who feels pain at the lack of that. The closest we got to having a sense of a hub was when Dad was still alive because he could gather us in the house we all grew up in. It wasn't a strong hub by any stretch, but at least it was something we had in common. With the house on the market, we don't even have that anymore.

Friends have fallen away in droves the past couple years also. I understand that, too. It's not like I was Suzy Laugh-a-Minute or anything. They say in hard times you find out who your true friends are. I always had the impression that was an affirming statement...like something would be more solid or you'd get all these cool surprises of just how many people had your back that you never knew about.

Maybe I had that impression because that has been the experience of others or maybe I just assumed wrongly. For me, though...well, it just didn't end up that way. If it wasn't for the occasional trip over to Facebook where I appear to have a few hundred friends, the truth is I have had fewer than the fingers on one hand who have checked up on me as I have fallen away from my public activities.

With only one exception, I can go weeks at a time and not hear from another soul unless I post a Facebook status or write a blog post. But what if I'm still too sad to post on Facebook? No one wants to read grief statuses all the time, including me. I know other people who have lost someone and I have sometimes hit my limit seeing their grief in the FB news feed. FB just isn't the place for that kind of thing. It's for pithy comments, sharing funny YouTube videos and for Peter Shankman's endless self-congratulatory updates. So, I do write funny and pithy things, and share videos and give little superficial updates but that fills the loneliness like PopTarts fill hunger. I'm not really telling you anything that significant in those status updates, and if I am, it's only a sentence or two's worth. Maybe you'll stumble on me in the news feed and maybe you won't. It's kind of a crap shoot just like it is whether I'll see your stuff unless I specifically hunt your profile down to check on you.

Bottom line is, Facebook is not for BUILDING real friendships. It's a way of touching base with people, and while I do like the quick updates on my friends, there generally aren't actual relationships being formed, deepened and cultivated there.

Relationships happen over cups of coffee. Over bowls of soup with crusty bread. Over a plate of cookies hot from the oven. Over working side by side to create something together, even if it's just those cookies I mention.

Here's where I get contradictory...

The thing is, I'm a hermit. I don't really want to go anywhere. I hate talking on the phone so good luck getting me to call you. If I did have family wanting to get together all the time I would think it was a hassle.

And this is where I am my father's daughter.

He came to my house only once or twice and after that I was to come to him. "I remember what your house looks like", he would say. "You come here."  I'm the same way. My home is my retreat, my slice of heaven, the place I would rather be than anywhere on the planet. I don't really want to see anyone more than I want to be here. BUT I love sharing this place. Or I would. But I can't invite Facebook over. I don't have family who are much interested in coming (we're all in the Midwest, but still several hours apart from each other). And the truth is, I don't really have that much to say to anyone so it seems kind of silly to try and rekindle relationships with people who have fallen away. I just think it would be nice to have someone come over to make cookies sometimes.

I loved my time with Dad when really it was mostly me cleaning his house while we listened to Isaac Hayes or Sinatra, or Yma Sumac followed by a little card playing. It wasn't anything special. Same with Michael. It wasn't big deal stuff. It was a little cleaning, a little organizing and office work, and grabbing a root beer float or going to a fish fry. It was just life, normal everyday life, not some special event. It was so ordinary and so wonderful for that very reason. We didn't need an excuse or a holiday to be together, no special event, no agenda. It was just everyday life and nicknames and a feeling of belonging.

So it's kind of a pickle. There I was feeling abandoned and lonely to the point of losing sleep over it while having to admit to myself that I didn't want to do a darn thing to change it if it meant having to pick up a phone or go somewhere or do anything that felt like "entertaining" or being entertained. I just want someone to show up at my door with a half gallon of milk and a fondness for Isaac Hayes saying they feel like making some cookies to go with it.

With the possibility of sleep becoming less likely with each unsettled thought, I got out of bed at 4:15 and took my dog for a walk. Then I got some coffee, sat down and as the birds started singing all that loneliness and self-pity fell away.

And I remembered all the goodness I shared with my father in his final few years, one hermit tending to another and discovering, "just at the right time in our lives" that we were "the best of friends" (his words). And I'm sorry to not have that anymore, like I'm sorry all my secret names are now gone, but the birds are here, and the dog is here, and my father is here, as he always is at this hour. I'm his daughter, and like him I'm more reclusive with every year that passes. I don't know if he ever felt lonely like I have, and I don't know yet what to make of this loneliness. Maybe it's another part of grief...it's a process that keeps surprising me with it's various subtleties and nuance along with the occasional blast between the eyes, so why wouldn't loneliness be a part of that?

But still, right now, in the wee hours, even with that, I love my life.   

Comments

[Nick Winter]

Interesting to know you don't like talking on the phone even though that was your career for quite a few years. :) I'm not that fond of public speaking yet I'm a teacher. How about that for contradiction? I move to Oak Park in July, hope to see you sometime soon! MUCH LOVE TO YOU!

[Peter]

Who needs those "social graces" when you can produce something this good?

[Erika]

This is beautiful and I love your contradictions. I know exactly what you mean about feeling lonely, yet not wanting to 'be entertained'. It's a funny mix, isn't it? I am feeling lonely here in the UK this week - lonelier than I have the entire time I've been here. Which is odd because I have more friends now. BUT....what is loneliness exactly? Maybe it's just a reminder that we are alive. My father used to say to me when I was a little girl, "We are each all alone". It used to make me angry and sad until I started to understand that his telling me that was really a gift. Knowing that now, it comforts me.

And I'm really glad to know you don't like talking on the phone. I hate it. So the good news is we don't have to call each other to chat. LOL. But I am looking forward to a good cup of coffee when I'm back (or maybe even a martini). xoxoxo

[erin]

Just beautiful. That is all.

[Laura]

Nick, I know! And the funny thing is I really loved the folks I was working with so it was such a love/hate thing. I would much rather have just had tea with everyone in person but then I never would have met some of my favorite people on the planet. Oh the FIT I threw when Scott bought our first computer (and we now are just on our SECOND in 20 years and I have a 6 year old laptop, so you can see I hate computers really) and yet it's a huge part of my life. I am VERY much looking forward to that waaay overdue cup of tea with you when you get in town.

Peter, you are adorable.

Erika, I can't wait for you to get back! Yes to coffee and martinis both. Can't wait.

Erin, thanks for being the one exception. That is all.

[Kate]

smiles and tears...you do it all the time.
I'm SO glad Erin is there...I may come, too. :)

[Laura]

Just call before you get here so I can clear all the picture frames off the guest bed. The yard is full of gold finches, the heron is fishing in the marsh and Penny is snuggled up on the patio here. It's been a perfect day. I'll go start the tea for you...

[Joel]

You write in a way that takes me with you on your deep and thoughtful journeys. Kate's thinking "Chicago", why not?

[Laura]

I do like the way you guys think! (And thanks for the compliment on the writing.)