Life was systematic once my workday kicked in. I could always be present at work. It was my church as the outside world didn’t exist. The activity of the lives of the students kept me going as my goals, hopes, and dreams for them didn’t waver. If I felt like a failure as a father, I felt like a superhero as an educator.
The feeling of having your own child and the fear of what his life may be was by far the saddest moment that I have ever encountered. Forgetting that feeling while working kept me going and it was like I was separated between two timelines.
Timelines was how I would later rationalize my world. This is what I thought about that first drive home from work after a weekend of sadness and confusion. The only way I could cope was to just compartmentalize my life.
From my point of view, my work timeline was my rock. I could count on it always being there for me. I had zero reservations about sharing my news about Sawyer. Nothing inside of me worried about their reaction because I knew that I would have nothing but support.
My timeline at home was less desired. I was worried to get home because of how unpredictable it could be. I wanted to make things easier on my wife Kellie but that was my problem. I wanted to just fix things. All she needed was for me to listen. I just didn’t know anything other than fixing.
My daughter, Evelyn just wanted her dad. The person who would read to her, play games with her, and love her like she was the only person on the planet.
My son, Cobe just wanted his dad too. The person who would play catch outside, watch movies, act out scenes from movies, and cuddle on the couch.
It was amazing what went through my head during that 30 minute commute that Monday in April. The time of year when the rain washed away the snow. A time when the kids could just open the sliding door to play outside again.
I wanted that time too. I just didn’t know how to merge my timelines together and be there for the others.