MY DAUGHTER, MY SELF

She's a little girl, around age 10, sitting alone on the porch of the people's house next door. I saw her playing yesterday with one or two of the numerous feral cats around here. She looked lonely this morning. It suddenly occurred to me how lonely my daughter must have felt growing up, the only child of a single mother. It is a painful realization.

She's here visiting with her parents. Her father has stayed inside most of the time, but her mother has come out of the house twice to watch her daughter in the swimming pool while she reads. I remembered the many times I would accompany my daughter to the playground and let her play on the equipment. At the same time, I watched from a distance and rested.

I'm sure most parents relive how they raised their children and are filled with varying degrees of regret. At least I'm guilty of that kind of unproductive thinking.

I wished I hadn't worked so hard by often coming home too stressed out to give my daughter the attention she deserved.

I wish I had introduced her to fewer boyfriends and husbands, all failing at some point.

I wished I had given her a sibling to deflect some intense focus on her or at least live in a neighborhood with many children.

There are things I did right, though. I don't think Marcy has spent a second wondering if I truly loved her. In fact, she told me I was too smothering and being the center of attention was burdensome. She wanted someone with whom to share that spotlight. This explains her reasoning for having two babies. It's been difficult for her to have a fast-paced, all-consuming professional life while finding the balance of motherhood. Trying to have a balanced life is exhausting for a young mother. I have no doubt that she'll successfully navigate motherhood while working. 

She was a delightful child, full of curiosity, intelligence, and charm. I ensured she was busy with fast-pitch softball from when she was a few years old until high school. When she was ten, she was on the team that won 4th place in the Junior Olympics.

Marcy's father, Jack, met the wife of one of his clients shortly after our divorce. She divorced soon after that. They've lived together for over 37 years. She wears a dour expression on her face most of the time and has been jealous of Marcy all these years. She's been a legal assistant/office manager, yet gives Marcy constant 'professional' advice.

When Marcy was about 10, I had heard from the other softball parents that on the weekends, Jack and his girlfriend had Marcy; she would attend the games and berate Marcy from the stands. She was even worse after the game and had no problem with everyone hearing her. I attended the game one day even though it was 'their' weekend. Several games were being played that day. I believe Marcy's team lost the last one. After it was over, I stood a few feet behind Jack and his girlfriend when Marcy approached them and said, "I'm hungry. Where are we going to lunch?" The girlfriend snarled, "We aren't going to lunch because you played terribly!" After I heard this exchange, I pulled Marcy away and yelled into the girlfriend's ear, "YOU WILL NOT SPEAK TO MY DAUGHTER LIKE THAT EVER AGAIN. IF YOU DO, I WILL PUNCH YOU IN THE FACE, AND I DON'T CARE IF I GO TO JAIL FOR IT." She quickly went running back to their car. Bullies always back away when they are confronted. Next, I asked her father why he tolerated his girlfriend's behavior. He just shrugged his shoulders as if there was nothing he could do. My following remark was, "If I catch her doing this again, I will move to another country with Marcy, and you will never see your daughter again." It's now been 27 years since that incident. She's still afraid I might deck her. I hadn't seen her for years until several years ago when she attended Marcy's wedding with Jack. She kept quite a distance from me and refused to sit at the table set aside at the reception for Marcy, her husband, and their parents. It's interesting how someone can remain an ass all their lives. I'm still thinking about punching her in the face for how she treated Marcy.

I ensured that Marcy had various experiences, such as dancing, learning to play the violin, acting in the Dallas Children's Theater, and traveling worldwide. She went to Paris with me when she was six and to Hawaii when she was seven. We went to Mexico and South America, too. Since I traveled all over the United States for a few years as part of my job, I would sometimes take her with me.

Traveling was part of my job before and after Marcy was born. Her father and I divorced when she was 6, and I continued with the same position for a couple of years. It was hard on her to see me go and hard for me to be away. Finally, I found a job that kept me home, but I still traveled a few nights a month as part of a second job. One day, I picked her up from school and mentioned that I would leave for a couple of days toward the end of the week. She replied, "I bet if you added up all the days you were away, it would equal a year of my life." I quit my second job the next day. When I told her I would no longer be going out of town as part of a job, she asked why. I responded, "Because I heard you."

Her father taught her to read at age 3. She advanced far beyond her classmates in preschool. I often got notes from her teachers in the early years complaining that she would quickly finish her work and start helping others. I remember asking, "Isn't that a good thing?" On several occasions, my response was, "Make her assignment challenging enough that she won't be meddling in other students' assignments." When one teacher wrote me that Marcy was 'too exuberant,' I wrote back, 'THANK YOU!' At her father's insistence, she skipped the second grade. When she entered high school, she started taking college-level courses, graduating at age 17 and already a sophomore in college.

The pressure on me to succeed was partly due to the fear of being homeless with a young daughter. Her father provided very little financial support. I am positive he would not have hesitated to gain custody of her if I had lost my job, house, and car. She was the most essential part of my life. I could not let that happen. So, I tolerated some bad bosses and stressful work days throughout her growing up years.

About a year before she went to college, 2000 miles away, I started dreading life without her. It was hard to imagine. When I passed baseball fields, I'd start crying. When I passed schools she used to attend, I'd weep. It seemed I was often beside myself at the mere thought of her going away. I began to plot my suicide. I reasoned that it would be less traumatizing for her if it appeared that I had died in an auto accident. I decided to wait a few months after she left, then drive the car into a bridge abutment. When I mentioned this plan to my therapist, I thought I was being rational. She urged me to immediately see a Psychiatrist to get on medication. I recall how surprised I was at her fear-filled expression. I remember the Psychiatrist telling me that I would be okay. He explained that I was about to enter a new chapter in my life which would be as rewarding as the years I spent with my daughter. It took a few weeks for the medication to reverse the depression I was experiencing to a manageable level. And...as I look back on that time, I realize I was in terrible shape. I should have known from my training that when someone has a detailed plan for committing suicide, it means they are at the highest risk of accomplishing their goal. The therapist saved my life.

Marcy finished college in three years. One of her college semesters was spent at their campus in Spain. She was 20 years old when she graduated. I recently asked her if she regretted graduating and entering the workforce at such a young age. She responded that she wished she had taken a year off after college to live in another country, preferably Spain. I wished I could have given her that experience.

Her career has taken her from Dallas to Chicago, Seattle, and Austin. She's the VP of Marketing for a start-up company. I watch how she mothers her children, and I'm filled with awe. I don't know if I can take any credit for how she parents her children or if she's such a good mother because of nothing I did, but it's still a pleasure to watch. Every time I hold her babies, it transports me back to when Marcy was a baby. Experiencing it all over again is one of life's great pleasures.

Marcy shared with me recently that she watched someone die during a violent movie. At that moment, she realized she would die one day, too. Marcy described having a panic attack as the realization washed over her. She asked if I was afraid to die. As I thought about it, I told her I wasn't scared because I had a whole life. I further offered that perhaps she was afraid because it would be too early for her to go. After all, she needed to be here for her children and had a strong desire to see them grow up. It's not that I want to die, but I'm not afraid. I want to see them grow up too. And...I'm doing exactly what I want to do right now. I don't have to go to work. I don't have to answer to anyone. I can do what I please. I get to see Marcy and my grandchildren frequently. I have time to write. And...what a blast to be with my friends as we work to save the country from its current direction.

It's a beautiful life.

And I just bet that Marcy isn't lonely anymore.