(This entry is about Saturday, April 8th, 2006 — I only got a chance to post this after midnight, so it’s dated April 9th.)

This morning, my wife asked me to make waffles for breakfast, since I hadn’t made them in a long time. Although the batter is very similar, I generally make pancakes because I think they’re easier to make. Really, it’s about the same, but for some reason I’d rather make pancakes. My wife made a point to mention that I’d gotten the batter “just right” and the kids ate waffles and Suzie had chocolate soy milk and Charlie, Sam and I had tea.

Then, I started to pack my things. I started clearing through a lot of cruft on my desk, throwing out things that I’d been holding onto for no good reason. Holding onto things just because I could, not because I really needed them. Things I’d pretty much forgotten about but felt I ought to keep at the time. I’m sure if I’d known today was coming, I would never have bothered, right?

By about 1:30 PM, I was packed and my car was loaded. We had to run an errand to return some movies and get some forms notarized. Turns out the banks all close at 1:00 PM on Saturday. The municipal building is only open Monday through Friday. The police department doesn’t have a notary. In the end, through the awesome power of Google’s mobile search for PDAs, we learned that the UPS Store on Kiel Ave. provides notary service at $3 a page. We get our forms notarized and go home.

The kids want Chef Boyardee — well, Charlie does, she always does — for lunch. We get home and the girls go straight for their toys in the playroom so they can get back to playing. Sam asks if they’d like to say goodbye before I leave. Suzie’s first to give me a hug and I kneel in front of her and kiss her on the head, then she walks off into the playroom. Charlie jumps into my arms, her legs almost around my waist, and I catch her before she falls to the floor. She hugs me tight and I kiss her on the forehead, reminding her to be a good girl and to take care of Suzie and Mommy. She goes off to play with Suzie. Sam and I hug, a quiet, sad hug. She asks me to let her know when I’ve arrived so she knows I got there safe. I agree to, I’m not sure why, but I do. I say one last goodbye to the girls who are already off playing, like I’m not even going anywhere, too occupied to care. That’s okay, they’re just kids. Rubber dinosaurs and spiders are more important right now. For their sake, I hope things stay that way for a long time, at least long enough for them to forgive me.

I choose not to eat at home so I can drive on an empty stomach, but wind up getting food at the Wendy’s before I get on Route 23, anyway, with $6 of the gift certificates Sam gave me. I’d taken the cans of soda from the house when I left and made sure I had plenty of cigarettes for the drive. I’ve got at least five hours of driving ahead of me, if not more with the poor weather: it was freezing rain and sleet, in April. Even in Spring, the sky poured down its icy tears for me, because I couldn’t shed my own.

What remains of my life has finally come to an end and the buds and shoots of my new life are already forming. I hope this Spring brings beauty and growth, even if it had to start with water from frozen tears. Nothing worth having ever comes easy and this, certainly, wasn’t easy.

Amongst the many blogs I read, I periodically check in on Tim Bray‘s. Back in February, he wrote an entry titled Love Your Children, where he linked to Daniel Steinberg’s blog titled Dear Elena, which after reading the first entry, I had to subscribe to it, too. (If you decide to read it, I suggest starting from the first entry and working your way towards the most recent one.)

At first, I thought I shared a lot with Daniel, in that I am also the father of two daughters. From his blog, it’s clear that he has a lot of fond memories and love for his daughters, and his recent loss is having an incredible impact on his family’s life. I try my best to sympathize and as I read what more and more he writes, I’m filled with an incredible sense of sadness. At first, I thought it was because I could share in his pain, his loss, but I’ve never lost a loved one like he has; I really have no idea what he’s gone through. Then, it struck me: reading what he’s written makes me sad because I don’t feel the same way about my own kids. I don’t know how I’d feel if one of my daughters had suddenly passed away, but I’m haunted by the feeling that I wouldn’t feel the same way he seems to, based on what he’s written. Somehow, that’s made me feel–or, realize–that I really am the bad father I’ve always suspected I am.

This week, I’m busy preparing to get my things in order to leave this weekend. My wife and I are separating and in a sense, I’m losing both of my children. I have no idea what to expect, how it will and should make me feel, or if I’m even doing “the right thing,” but I know that the way I currently feel about my life and my family, I don’t belong here. I don’t belong. Those three words sound so strange but they sound so right. They really describe how I feel about me and how I fit into this world. I just don’t belong.

I’ve been seeing a therapist for the last four years now and I’ve been told that I’m not like everyone else. I’m not normal. I don’t belong. Maybe I’m not just a bad father, but I’m a bad person. I treat people poorly. I know I do. But, not just other people, I treat myself the same way. I don’t like me and I don’t really expect other people to like me, either.

I know that I mostly blog about random, inane crap, in this space. I’ve generally stayed away from personal subjects, mostly because I can’t imagine anyone would be interested in them. But, my life has really been falling apart and I seriously need some collective wisdom and self-help, so I’m hoping folks can give me their opinions and insights and help me get through things. I’ll still try to post random, funny and geeky things as well. It’s going to be hard for me, since I really disconnect myself from my feelings, but that’s exactly why I need to do this — to practice and get better.

For those of you who who will suffer through my troubles and share your thoughts, I thank you all in advance. I really do appreciate it.