Dear Kyla... these are the musings of a dad who just moved his daughter to college...
Warning: Random, un-edited thoughts, feelings and what I call "spew..." ahead. The thoughts from what I used to call a "Straterra-Soaked" mind... now, letting the freedom of ADHD thought flow...
... probably because the adderall has worn off for today...
Buckle up.
I've been somewhat absent on the blog and on social media, to a degree, lately... because I've been processing the change in my life while trying to find a way forward and while getting used to the silence.
You see, for the first time since, well, Kyla moved back to the area in 5th Grade, she's been a pretty constant presence in my life and home.
If you are a co-parent, you'll understand what i mean.
Kyla spent Summer and Holidays with me but once she started Kindergarten, she was with mom for the school year. That changed in 5th grade, because Mom got a gig working at a station up here - but - at night. So it made sense for Kyla to hang with me because Mom worked late, I worked Afternoons and, well, it just made sense.
She'd stay with mom and go on trips with her mom's family... and I was fine with the feelings knowing she was going to be away for awhile and stuff... but for some reason, this time, moving her to a place 400 miles away... hit me in an emotional way I wasn't expecting.
In the days before the move, I could 'feel' the emotions starting but I compartmentalized them.
Work is always a great distraction for me, so I threw myself into it. Stuff with SAG-AFTRA is a fun distraction for me, as well, so I kept my mind free from the "emo" by engaging in some of the political issues our membership face during what has been a contentious leadership election.
Wine and Deep Eddy/Titos... well they help, too.
Packing the car, the feels were there, but they were in check. On the way to school, things were okay - I was distracted by making the drive. Moving her in, some of those feelings presented themselves. Saying goodbye... those feelings started to flow... and so did the tears.
On the way home, I'd say I spent about the first three hours of a nine-hour trek... driving in silence and letting my mind - and memories - tell me the stories of our life together. Of our journey from Tampa, to the Carolinas, and to DC. Of our moments at concerts and shows, festivals and theme parks.... of the artists we'd met... of the times we had... through so much of my life, she's been there... my wingman in many respects... but in others, she was my concert buddy... my life buddy.
Sometimes, I felt more like our relationship was less daddy/daughter and more friend to friend... and I was coming to grips with the fact that my not-so-little-girl, turned College Freshman... wasn't going to be around for all of those things life brings... like before.
ASIDE - I'm emotional writing this right now... and I feel the tears wanting to well up... while I wait for the sun to come back out so I can go to the pool.
When Kyla came along, I can tell you, I was personally on a path which, if I'm being honest, probably wasn't going to end very well for a myriad of reasons. I was living a less than productive personal life, indulging in things and stuff which, well, I won't get into, but, let's just say I was blazing a trail which was fueled by vice.
That trail went cold at 1:23 AM on Davis Island in Tampa, Florida, on 30 March 2004.
My life stopped being my own. Suddenly, I wasn't working to build some sort of reckless-meets-debaucherous-meets-outrageous-outlandish-over-the-top radio career as some sort of shocking radio personality.
When the doctor handed Kyla to me as the labor and delivery team tended to mom, who, by the way, birthed our daughter without any pain meds or epidurals or whatnot... I looked at our new daughter and knew my world... was forever changed.
The bond which formed at that moment became the most powerful emotion and feeling I've ever felt... and it changed my course forever.
I've not been a perfect man. I'm still not. Nor will I ever be. I've been a less than adequate son, an imperfect brother, a pretty shi**ty boyfriend and clearly I'm a flawed human being. But in that moment I looked at the most perfect thing I've ever helped to create. At least to me. And that changed my focus and my perspective and my path in this life.
With her first breath, my former desire to break eggs and make omelettes in life and work found more focus. I was now pushing the edges of envelopes to see where they used to be... because I needed to be the best professionally - and personally - for our daughter.
Suddenly, my life wasn't my own. It wasn't about me anymore... it was about this little, innocent person who would forever be my legacy in life as a man, and now, as a dad.
The only time I remember being overwhelmed by emotions like those from the middle of the night on that day in 2004... happened last week.
Overwhelmingly strong feelings. Like stronger than I've ever felt for anyone or anything I've ever "loved" before.
Or lost.
My therapist says, "You mourn..."
I'd not call it "mourning." I'd say it's more or less "realizing..."
Realizing that change is a constant. That I can't always be there to swoop in and do whatever. I can't helicopter-parent in lunch, or solve problems with ice cream or yogurt. That the baby I held at five minutes old... is now an almost-adult who is entering the next chapter of HER adventure and that the sun has set on this chapter of her life, of my life and in our mutual world.
Realizing that childhood - and parenting a child - in the scheme of things - lasts a fraction of a second in comparison to an eternity which is this life.
Realizing that there's not enough time.
Realizing that you can't pause time and realizing that no, you can't go back...
Realizing that the moments we have are finite. In life. As parents. With loved ones. With our kids... and all you have at the end of those moments... are memories.
I'm still processing all the feelings.
I'm still sorting through what it all means to me - and how I feel about all of this.
But I do know this... I've tried pretty hard to be a good dad. I know I wasn't - and am not - perfect. I know I've failed in some ways, but I also know I've excelled in some others. I know there was - and is - more I need to do.
I know there is a time and a place for all of this to be done.
But what I know for sure is this: I'm pretty proud of her.
Of all she's endured.
Overcome personally.
Of how she's grown.
Of who I see her becoming.
Of the drive and passion I see starting to catch fire in her.
Of how she took it on herself to skip a year of high school during a global pandemic, under the most impossible conditions, to graduate a year early, and to get herself into a school which, I'm learning, is a pretty spectacular place for those who have the "misfit" and "rebel" creative "gene" thing...
I know I'm pretty proud of this woman and I know I'm even more thankful I was picked by God, life, fate, the "force" or whatever you want to call it... to be her daddy.
I sometimes talk about how important it is to leave a "dent in the universe" or to be one of the "crazy ones" who "believe they can change the world."
These words are a part of my own internal OS, influenced by someone I admire who I also feel a sense of kinship with.
And while I may not, in my life, get to fully "change the world," I know this kid changed my world... and I have no doubt she will continue to change things as one of the "crazy ones" who are the "ones who do..."
I'm so proud. I'm so thankful. I'm so blessed.
So, Kyla, If you are reading, and I'm pretty sure you are: I know you are going to change things... and I'll be here to do whatever it takes to support you as you do. Because you've been changing things since day one.
At least... You changed me.
You changed me then... and you've changed me every day since... for almost 18 years.
#HeresToTheCrazyOnes...
ilysm... and I miss you.
dad.