Double Cheeseburgers and Parenting from 2,000 Miles Away

I’m sitting in a Carl’s Jr in Pueblo, Colorado as I type this on a iPhone. I’m not a big Carls Jr fan but it’s fine. I’m here because my 12 year old, Benjamin LOVES IT. I introduced him to it when he visited over the summer and he delighted in getting mayonnaise on his burger, knowing how much I hate the condiment. I sit now in the same booth where we last ate here together.

A troubling thought crept in my head last night: I’m back to normal. When your kids visit from across the country, no matter how much fun you are having, there is a ticking clock in your head. Six days til they leave. 3 days. 5 hours til the silence. Coming home to the silence is the worst part.

One of the hard part about being a liaison for the government is that some days I simply do not want to talk to anyone, even though that is exactly what I am paid to do. At work, the natural thing to do is ask people about their holidays. And I work with some truly wonderful people who absolutely care about me and the boys. But it’s hard to respond how the visit went when they ask.

I’ve been divorced for about 10 years, and due to my line of work I’ve been separated by thousands of miles for a good portion of that time. (Big props to the professor at Minnesota who used to ball me out for taking an A- in class. “Something is really wrong, Jason.” No shit, Sherlock.)

I’ve tried to figure out how to express what it’s like being so far from the boys and what it’s like when they visit. As best as I can reckon, I live my life most days with my head held under water. And the few moments per year when the fellas are with me are like being able to breathe again. I feel alive. And then they leave and my head goes back in the drink.

My buddy Mike tells me how strong I am and how he couldn’t do this. I appreciate his support bc without my friends I don’t know that I could pull this off. But being strong is tiring. I’d like to not have to be strong.

I’ve shared my feelings with a couple elders I know and trust. They tell me Creator brought me out here for a reason and when it is time to go home, Creator will make that happen. Those thoughts give me comfort. I want to think there’s a reason I’m here. But goodness, y’all.

I do what I can. I FaceTime every night at 7pm. I call and text. I attend school and doctor appointments virtually. Their mom and I talk throughout the day, every day (the woman who divorced me turned out to be one of my best friends. It is possible.) For me, being a dad means being a fixed position in their lives. An anchor point, if you will.

I just talked to the big guy, Jack. He did really well this last semester. Started slow but really put in the work. I couldn’t care less about the grade. I’m so proud of his effort. Told him as much. Next month we are getting Civilization 7 so we can play it together.

I don’t really know the point of sharing this much today, though it’s been on my heart for a while. My bestie Kristalyn tells me it’s time to really share my story (“you should be writing, doofus”).

So there ya go. Maybe some of y’all are in similar situations. It’s tough. But it’s possible. And yeah, I hurt every god damn day. But so be it.

I’m trusting in Creator. And if not Creator, the Cosmos, or just dumb luck that the decisions I’ve made will prove to be good ones.

My boys are doing well. And this cheeseburger is finished.

Y’all be good.

Jason