A Reprint

This is a duplicate of a post I wrote in my cancer blog. I just felt like sharing it here today.

This is a little bit about how my heart works.

Last night I had quite a lucid dream. I was walking with a friend through what appeared to be some form of a Disney Store. The only merchandise on display, however, was an assortment of items that I had gotten for my kids over the years. Along with my friend, I was walking with my oldest daughter. She's now 22, but in the dream I was walking with a younger version of her, holding her hand.

We wandered the aisles, talking, when I realized that my daughter had wandered off. I looked and looked, and came upon her lying in a Disney Princess Bed (if there is such a thing). She was asking me, "Please, Daddy, can I get this bed?"

I had to tell her that we couldn't get the bed, because it was too expensive. She simply said, "Oh all, right." and wandered off again. She returned a few minutes later holding a small glass figurine of Goofy, her favorite Disney character, She handed the figurine to me, and I looked at the price tag. This, I could afford, and told her as much. My memories of her are quite clear, because she smiled the way she did when she was little and said, "Thank you, Daddy."

But she never took her eyes off the bed. She stood ruffling the blankets and satin pillow. 

That's when I woke up. And I woke up very sad.

I was sad because life has gotten to the point where we're barely getting by. I'm disabled now, and on a fixed Social Security income. My heart hurts because I was once a wonderful provider. I didn't, by any means "spoil" my children. They did get occasional gifts and treats aside from those given at holidays, but now I'm struggling to afford the bare essentials.

My youngest is attending a public high school with a rather affluent student body. Barely a day goes by that one kid or another is showing up at school with a brand new car. There was a time I could have done the same for all three of my kids. Now, I could barely scrounge up the money for the tires for one of those cars.

It's what makes my heart hurt. A lot. Every night I go to bed feeling a failure. I don't fall asleep smiling too often the past three years. It's not about giving them what they want, it's about me giving them what I want to give them. Or rather, it's about me not being able to do what I want to for my kids, Reversal of fortune, so to speak.

Heartache doesn't go away with medication. I don't know what makes it go away. I just wish it would stop.