The Eldest Child - Session 1

(Beep. Music fades in)

They say a boy never really becomes a man until his father dies, and those people suck. Genuinely, 100% suck. The worst moments of our lives shouldn’t be fun little markers for somewhat arbitrary transformations. I mean, the implications of that for me, specifically, because I was a literal child when my dad died. That’s all just rubbing salt in a wound that they want you to pretend you don’t have, that they want you to believe doesn’t exist. Because if it is a right of passage, your emotions aren’t so important. You had to go through this. It’s the doorway through which you had to pass if you wanted to enter into society with the rest of us. And I say, “if you want to,” but there’s not really a choice there. It’s a necessity, and we aren’t supposed to lament necessities, you know?

But that’s… weird. Inaccurate and weird, I would say. Like, I know we as a society try to ignore the reality of the human experience or tweak it through some commercial means, but come on, don’t kick someone while they’re down. Very down. 

Then again, I’m… Well, I’m proof that the alternative isn’t so great either. Like, forget empty platitudes. As someone who has been through it myself, there’s nothing good to say. I can’t come up with anything. And was it even worth a shot? I don’t know. I do know that sometimes when I’m knee deep in my own grief–regardless of what sent me spiraling–I just want everyone to shut up. To let me think. And breathe. I mean, they can’t pull me out of this anyway, right? So why are they bothering? Why bother? Why? Why do they want to make it worse? Is that their point? Why do we have points at all? Nothing matters. Or it would be easier if nothing matters. My terrible feelings apparently matter to them; I’m just not sure why or in which way they want it all to go. Right? Right? Or was that just me. Still me. You can be honest; I’m used to being the odd one out.

But I swear, it was grief that taught me how to hate people. And I want to say it’s because they didn’t care about me and my grief was just such a massive inconvenience that the secret slipped. But I do care about you, and I’m not very good at making that clear. Or acting on it. It doesn’t help that we don’t know each other. Or that, at this point, we never will. 

(Music fades out and new music fades in)

It hurts, I know. And the timing just makes it so much worse. You know, I don’t think even having a child necessarily makes a boy a man, to borrow that absolutely garbage verbiage. I’ve met many people who either have trauma from parents who refused to grow up or who have become parents who refuse to grow up after having a child. That’s not going to be you, I mean. Uh. I don’t fully know why I brought that up, but it made sense in the moment. The very recent moment that immediately fell apart.

I never claimed to be good at this. It just all happens. I don’t know why. I’ve had theories, but I’ve never known, and I wish I did. Because that’s supposed to make things better, right? Purpose is supposed to help our discomfort, but I can’t help but think that’s the exact sort of thing I was complaining about earlier. Just repackaged. I do and don’t know. It’s in my head, and I’m sure I could pursue it. I’m just not in the mood to be too philosophical right now.

You know, I still have moments when the grief is so bad that even breathing is hard. Like there’s a vice grip on my chest, and it’s wound too tightly to breathe. So no, that’s not… That’s not going away. Exactly… It just becomes less consistent, you know? Like you’ll have plenty of other times to catch your breath. Eventually. 

(Music fades out and new music fades in)

Maybe I should stop talking about that, but it feels weird to talk about your new baby. But it’s a heck of a time for a birthday, right? Right on the heels of a death anniversary. I feel that. I feel that as the kid who fell out on the wrong day, pardon my language. 

I’m far from an expert on children and how to raise them. It always struck me as the sort of thing you learn by doing. Unfortunately or fortunately, I don’t know. It is something I think about. My girlfriend and I talk about having children some day. Like, from the first date, I think. It was a deal breaker for her. She’s always wanted to be a mom, just like you knew you always wanted to be a dad. And she, as the smartest person I have known, will be the first to say that knowing this is something you want is a first step. But it’s the sort of first step that starts a thousand mile journey. Assuming there’s an end to that journey. Her mom still mothers us from time to time. Just the other day she had to come by to show us how to properly clean the tile in our bathroom. It was… It was all kind of pathetic. 

Look, no one else is going to say it, but I know you’re thinking it. The realization that your dad is not going to hold your child is brutal. And it is a very special kind of brutal that you just don’t think is possible until it hits you. I thought I knew how bad this was going to be. 

I thought I knew how bad this was going to be. I thought I found the bottom, you know. My spine against it, but then the bottom gave out and something worse came along. But that doesn’t say anything about you, you know? This part of it all sucks, but there’s nothing you could have done about it. You can’t control circumstances. Not that parenting is about control anyway. It isn’t. Or, I should say, good parenting is not about control. It’s about navigation, support, love, not being a colossal jerk. That sort of stuff. You can’t control circumstances. And you shouldn’t expect yourself to be able to. You just have to help your kid through them. Pretty early to have a lesson in grief as a literal infant, but you know, you’ll make it work. I know you will. I know you’ve got this.

(Music fades out and new music fades in)

And that should have come from your dad, I know. I… I thought someone had to say it, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I can’t be him. I’m sorry it wasn’t him, and instead, it’s me and I’m sorry how super inconvenient that is because you have genuinely come to hate the sound of my voice. Valid, totally valid. Especially if it means you’ll stick around. Face it, as negative as your feelings are about me, you like that you aren’t just sadness and fear. Variety, you know. Beggars can’t be choosers and all that jazz.

And… while you don’t want me to say it, I’ll say it anyway. I really am sorry for your loss. Because you did have a loss, you know? You… You get to miss him. You get to be upset about it. 

(Music fades out. Beep)

The Oracle of Dusk is a production of Miscellany Media Studios with music licensed from the Sounds like an Earful music supply. It was written, edited, produced, and performed by MJ Bailey. And if you like the show, tell friends about it or the quasi-friends that are still on your social media feeds because social norms evolved before words did, am I right?