“Well I’m searching for somethin’
That I can’t reach
So I whisper your name
In my sleep.
‘N time isn’t giving me,
The space that I need.
But you know at this pace,
I don’t think I can pull into the lead.”

It is too much for one person to handle — cancer, the battle against death; watching helplessly as your child, the being you’d give your very life to protect, suffers with nothing you can do to stop it. And yet, here I am — and here we are. I don’t know how we did it, and I don’t know how I’ll do it again if some future scan brings us back into the darkness. If this experience has taught me anything, I am clearly aware that all I have — indeed, all that any of us have — is this moment, right now.

In this moment, I’m tired. The aforementioned struggles have been fought while I still get up in the morning and go to work. My job is demanding, but I love it — I love it enough to let it take me from my family 8 hours a day, 5 days a week (sometimes more).

Finally we return to something that looks vaguely like the life we had. There are still many questions needing answers, but there is a familiarity returning to the day-to-day on my end. Yet, I can feel “it” still within me. It’s is in the clenching of my jaw when someone shares their relief that the nightmare is “over”. It’s in my throat every time I look at a recent photo of Vampboy at school, when I feel as though I may burst into tears right then and there. It’s in the fear that crosses my mind in the darkness of the night, as he snuggles next to me looking for a safety he doesn’t realize I can’t actually provide.

“Cause I can’t carry this around any more,
It’s getting heavier with age.
It is the boulder in my stomach.
It’s the avalanche in my veins.”

What is “it”? It’s what this experience has done to me. I am the classic “hero” — willing and able to stretch myself to the breaking point to save the world, all the while functioning on fumes and a healthy dose of denial about how sad, angry or messed up I feel inside. I am also keenly aware what happens to heroes if they don’t take their time to fall apart. It would be easy for me to bury myself in my fantabulous job and fill every waking moment outside of work running errands, making dinner, putting Vampboy to bed, visiting friends and family, etcetera, etcetera. Then, eventually, what is stuffed neatly in a corner of my heart would escape from its cage and tear me apart, along with anyone within a mile radius of me. I know better than to allow it to get to that level. So, since it looks like Vampboy is okay for the moment, it’s time for Vampdaddy to take care of his eternal self.

“So let’s leave it behind –
I want to bury it beside the road.
I will sit there until it comes out of me
I’ll be freezing in the summer desert cold.”

I am going off the grid for awhile. In real-life, that means I’m taking the month of December off of work — most of it, anyway. Vampboy will be in school, Vampmommy will start her own process of regrouping, so my time will be my own to rest and re-charge. I have no big plans — there will be some yoga, there will be some art, there will be some time sitting around in pajamas, watching some sweeping movie epic while continuing the never-ending task of uploading my entire cd collection to I-Tunes (anyone who knows me knows that this last activity would most likely require a year-long sabbatical to complete, but I might as well start somewhere). There will also be some holiday cheer and family-time, which is always good to approach well-rested.

There will be some writing — but it will not be here. There are some things I need to document, experiences I need to put down, feelings I need to articulate that are not for this venue. They will find their own home, I’m sure – and I have no doubt that some day they will reach your eyes and you will once again share with me your grace and kindness.

This is my fancy way of saying that “off the grid” also means that I am taking a break from the blog. Not for long — I expect to have some witty post prepared to kick off 2008. But December is for me, and I’m hoping to let my soul guide me through my own process for awhile. I promise I will break my silence should I have something to share regarding Vampboy’s life and journey, so keep checking back — but no news will be good news should it remain quiet here.

To you all I extend my warmest wishes for a December full of joy for you and yours. I have written before of my gratitude for everyone that has helped make my blog a sanctuary for me, and for the gifts both literal and figurative that you have offered to my family. My feelings on that matter, and for each of you, remain steadfast. I look forward to a return to Vampdaddy in a few weeks with renewed energy, spirit, and fun stories to share about the outcome of Vampboy’s ever-growing Christmas list (there’s a six-foot tall inflatable snowman on it at the moment).

The journey continues…..

“Somehow we get there,
From wherever we are.
Somehow we get there –
No matter how far”

“Somehow We Get There” by Melissa Ferrick.


About vampdaddy

Father...Sage...Artist...The Weird One...I am many things to many people. View all posts by vampdaddy

11 responses to “Hibernation

  • Anonymous

    I will honestly miss you. I check every day. I congratulate you for the decision also. I will continue my ritual of looking in every morning as I read my version of the paper. If there is no entry I will take a moment to wish you some peace.

    Good Journey…Kathryn

  • Fez

    I, too, will miss your “voice,” coming regularly into my home in Maryland. I wish you a restorative time to heal, to grieve, to make some peace with life.

    With love,

  • heather a~*

    Take this time, write, tell your diary all you need to say. We’ll be here when you’re ready to come back. Happy Holidays, Blessed Be.

  • Henitsirk

    Good for you. Rest and rejuvenate.

    I’ve got you on my feed for whenever you return.

  • Anonymous

    Good for you Vampdaddy. You taking time for yourself is a great idea and I am proud to know someone smart enough to take it. I’ll try to remember you’re out and not fill you in-box with messages.

  • Anta

    Rest. Heal. Reset.

    Tend to your soul….and return hopeful.

  • Papa Bradstein

    I’m glad for you that you’re doing this, and impressed with your wisdom and presence of mind. Safe travels through this time; we’ll see you on the other side.

  • justme519

    Wishing you and the whole family a very restful December full of memories. Happy Holidays.

  • Francesca Giessmann

    rest,relax, cry and laugh,… I will miss you and your writing.. for both of us may the lessons of 2007 remind us of the preciousness of TODAY and may we forget the suffering!
    See you in 2008!
    much love to the whole VFamily!

  • Lainey-Paney

    See you when you get back….and happy holidays.

  • Anonymous

    Your blog fills me. You are an incredible human
    being, unsurpassable dad and loving husband.
    Your journey is one I will share with many. I am so glad the treatment is behind vampboy, a long roller
    coaster 51 weeks. I found you on Grayson’s blog,
    and I am so happy I did. Have a positive December
    and be good to yourself. I wish you and your
    wonderful family a very happy holiday. I, also will
    await your return.

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