Daddy Tears

Hey there boys!

It's 10p on a Thursday night. Everyone is in bed, Boss in his rock and play, Bear and Momma in my bed as is customary these days. Bear, you really hate being alone. Boss, you don't seem to mind much when it comes to sleeping. I'm sitting at my desk, listening to a band called The Head and the Heart. They're pretty great. It's been about six months since I wrote, and I feel bad about that, because I want this to not always be so dramatic. Some days I just want to say hi. But this year has been tough. A lot of life and work has left me feeling emotionally drained, and sometimes I don't feel like I have the capacity to sit down, and type out something meaningful and inspiring. Sometimes, I just want to numb out. But I realize as I'm writing this that what the people in my life need is not someone who is always strong or always inspiring, not always the best, most polished version of me, but just me. As i lay in bed tonight, I was making fun of your mom and then I realized something tragic. I can't ever remember my dad crying. Like, never. See for the last 10 years or so of my dad's life, I think he was depressed, and severely for the last 3 or 4 years of his life. After he lost the house, his body just sort of shut down and he seemed to age extra fast. My 64 year old dad seemed 100 years old. I asked him once about how he shut down and essentially he told me that he did it to protect everyone from unnecessary anxiety. He was selfless, but foolish and proud too. None can bear the weight of life all alone. We are only as strong as those surrounding and supporting us.

So I'm 31, working as a counselor for a really ridiculously poorly run agency. Money is tight, stress is high, but life is good. Worry has become a regular part of my life, which is a weird experience. I wasn't always so anxious. Maybe its that for the first time, I feel like I have something to lose. I have people counting on my consistency and care to make their lives healthy and stable. I'm a dad, like for real. I'm two people's parent. Most of what I see everyday at work is the effects of fatherlessness. Its ugly, and it breaks my heart. Next Tuesday, Nov 11 will mark one year since the last time I talked to my dad, like really talked to him. It was one of the most important conversations of my life, and it lasted just a minute. Six days before he died, I knelt down next to his lift chair and I told him how proud I was to be his son. I told him that all of the good things in me, I learned from him. I learned strength of character, compassion, humility and hard work. I learned to keep my thoughts to myself and listen to others. I learned how to be funny, and how to not laugh at my own jokes, just incase they bombed. I told him that I knew that he felt like his life was a failure because he worked as a pizza man and because he lost his house, but that a tree is judged by the goodness of its fruit. And that the fruit of his life, his kids, was so good. Now that I think of it, he may have gotten teary that night, but he certainly didn't cry. Luckily for you guys, you're dad is a pretty great crier. I've already cried like 3 different times just writing this. One of the most important things I have learned in my journey into manhood is the importance and power of vulnerability and humility. Hopefully you grow up looking up to your ol dad. Maybe I'll even be your hero for a time. As you enter adolescence, you'll begin to see the wrinkles and cracks of humanity in me. You'll see all of the ways that you don't want to be like me, all of the ways you can improve the quality of the Nordean man. And that's good, you're supposed to do that. That's how we grow. My great hope is that both of my sons will be better men than I, that they will be their own men, but great men. One thing that I ask you to hold onto though, is that tenderness and willingness to cry.

In the world you've been born into, tears are like kryptonite. Some mystical evil that weakens us and saps us of all of our super strength. But tears are the most powerful and natural expression of that great gift that God gave us in emotion. Emotion ill expressed can be reckless and destructive, but knowing what you feel, allowing yourself to feel it and expressing it in the appropriate way is the mark of emotional maturity. All men feel grief and sadness, embarrassment, frustration, hurt and disappointment. Not all men find ways to express it apart from hitting something. I didn't always. There is a filing cabinet at my mom's house all dented to hell from the frustrations and hurts of my high school and college years. But you my sons, you will see me cry. You'll feel the wet warmth of my tears as I hold you in your grief. You'll see me at church as the Lord cracks off the crustiness of my heart. You'll probably be embarrassed, you'll maybe feel I'm weak. But if you could only know the great strength of my tears. They hold all of the love in my heart, all of the hope, all of the joy. They hold every bit of my shame and regret. They hold my weakness, and they make me mighty. Know that you are loved, and that its ok to get red-faced, snotty and just downright indignant if you need to. Let yourself be held up by your friends and family, be present in the pain and let yourself feel, really feel, even when its hard. Because my sons, life has great joy and great sorrow to offer to you, and its all really good and really hard, but its all important. You can't only feel the good all of the time. And you won't always be sad. But know that you are loved by me and by the Almighty Father. We both weep with you in joy and sadness, and let every salty drop remind you that you belong and you'll be ok.

I love you both with all I am,

Dad

PS. Ben Howard has this song called "Oats in the Water" that is so so cool, and I played it several times while writing to you.