Lonely at the Top

As I entered through the front door, my work bag felt exceptionally heavy for a Friday evening. My bloated schedule would have its consequences that day. A certain amplified silence enveloped my ears shortly after I lost my loafers and sport coat at the door.

“Honey?....Kids?....ummm….is anyone here?”

I slowly crept through the front foyer searching for signs of life. Many of the lights I could rely on burning energy sat lifeless. The deafening hum of static filled my ears. My one decrepit ankle cracked with each step I took towards our kitchen. Call it reliable but an injury to my right ankle in youth lets all know I am within proximity.

Waiting for me on the counter sat an envelope with, “Cal” in my wife's flowing script. Completely unaware what awaited me, panic took hold. Had I forgotten another important date or event? Was it our anniversary? One of the kids important showcases? How would I explain this time away? Question after question assaulted my already exhausted psyche.

Opening the letter, I braced myself for the worst lashing I could receive.

“My dearest Cal,

Throughout our years together, you have dedicated yourself to providing us with everything we could possibly need. Our children have never gone hungry or without a roof over their heads. And for that, I couldn't be more grateful.

But being a father to our children is more than providing them with every worldly desire. It is being there for the big events and small. It is being present when our daughter had her first heartbreak. It is being there for our son the first time he rode his bike without the training wheels. Many times it was I who provided them with praise and comfort on my own. I would rather us be poor, without comforts than knowing you are wasting our kids youth on your own desire to be some great success. We will be gone for awhile to discover what it is that we need.

Your wife,

Abby”

Within the vortex of my own mind, I began spiraling into what only one could consider complete despair. My family has measured my value and found me lacking. After everything I’ve done—everything—how could it still not be enough?!

My knees suddenly collapsed as my entire body and worth fell to the hard tile on which I stood. Silent sobs shook through me as the impact of my wife's written words bled into my mind.

Could I have hurt my family? Could this be reversed? What could I do to save myself from a life without them?

Resting my head against the kitchen cabinets, I slowly lifted my heavy gaze to the hoard of expensive liquors nestled in their place. With a heaviness I hadn’t anticipated, I poured a glass of amber-colored solace—an analgesic, I told myself. By the third drink, my mind betrayed me. I became consumed by fear and disgust. I was no better than my own father. Absent to the needs of his own family as well as an alcoholic, my father chose to take his stress out on those around him. I tried to save my family the pain of my presence by being a providing father.

The day our eldest child was born, I promised my daughter that she could have whatever she needed. I knew then I would not be an excellent father but I certainly could provide for her. The following months, I dedicated my time to being the absolute best in my career field. The countless hours and nights lost to succeeding, reaching for the top. Now here I lay, at the top of my own Mt. Everest with no one to share this glory with.

Life before children had been easier on my marriage. Not that my children are to blame. It appears my desire to conquer came at a cost that I am unwilling to pay. At this point in time, the question remains: how can I change it now?

Destined to be alone, I took the bottle of liquor and my draining thoughts towards bed. Climbing the stairs while swaying, my tumultuous thoughts led me astray yet again.

I wonder who would know if I fell and broke my neck? At this rate, would anyone care?

Trying to ignore my negativity I focused my sights on a deep night of rest. Tomorrow, I would speak with Abby about how to move forward. If she would even like to move forward with me.

Lifting my left foot up to take the next step, my weak right ankle gave way. Pinwheeling in place, I felt the loss of my center of gravity as I careened backwards. As if time could slow, I braced myself for certain death.

“Sir, sir! Can you hear me sir?!” Like the light surfacing at the bottom of a dark sea, I began to wake.

Above me stood nurses in green scrubs with their faces covered. Without an iota of how I arrived here, I began to sit up from the hard floor.

“Where am I? What's going on?” I rasped.

“Cal?! Cal! Are you okay, Cal?!”

My wife was shrieking from the neighboring hospital bed. Scrambling to my feet, I lurched forward to grab her hand.

“Honey, is this a dream? What on earth happened?” I began to stumble over my own words.

“Cal, you fainted the moment the doctor told me to push.” She stared incredulously.

“Push? Push what? I'm so confused.” I asked.

“Our baby out, you idiot!” She hollered at me.

“Sir, I'm afraid your head may need to be checked over and maybe get some quick imaging. It seems you hit it pretty hard on the way down.” The nurse grabbed my arm to lead me away.

Pulling back towards my wife I answered, “Absolutely not. I will not abandon my wife and child in such a vulnerable time. We can do that other later. I need to be here with Abby. They need me here…they need me present.”

Abby's eyes filled with tears as she said, “I love you so much, Cal. Just be here with us. That’s all we ever wanted.”