Failure upon failure

Decades ago, back when I was in school, I thought that "success" meant getting good grades and the approval of my teachers. That belief pretty much guttered out when I left graduate school with a stack of Incompletes, partly because I didn't really want to be there and partly because Wife had a new boyfriend.

Time went on. After a while, I began to think that "Success" meant keeping my marriage together, doing OK in my job, and buying a house. Of course that belief ran aground when I decided I had to leave the marriage, and when we later sold the house.

But during that time, I developed another belief—namely, that "success" meant being a good father, even in spite of everything.

What's a good father? It's hard to say. But the concept comes with a lot of baggage, images that you think should naturally cling to it. Images that suggest somehow your kids might want to have something to do with you once they are old enough to make the decision on their own.

Yeah, right. Where am I today? Son 1 doesn't communicate with me unless (like a couple nights ago) I provoke the conversation by sending him something. And most of the time he doesn't reply even to those. I heard more from him that night than I'd heard in practically the last year rolled together.

Son 2 calls every few months. His calls used to be long and generous, lasting hours. The last few have been brief and clipped: long enough for him to report the information he has to tell me, and no more. Today he asked me for Mother's address, to send a Christmas card; once he had the address, he had to go. Click. End of call.

Also today I read a thread on Twitter, about King Sigmund of the Volsungs, who was indirectly responsible for the death of his son Sinfjotli. Many years later, in his old age, he had a second son—Sigurðr the Dragonslayer—and would die with great honor on the battlefield. So I guess that, despite all appearances, there's technically still a chance for me to redeem all these failures. 

But in the meantime they sure do make an imposing list, don't they? Maybe failure is worth meditating on.