“Hopeless Wanderer”

[Trigger warnings: death, loss, grief]

This Christmas seems to be turning out more promising, less lonely, than usual: tonight I have the choice between a dinner that my housemate is having with some of their friends at our place or joining one of my closest running buddies to celebrate with his family; tomorrow, I have been invited to Christmas Day dinners by two different climbing buddies. 

And yet, last night I couldn’t sleep. Tossing and turning in my bed restlessly, ruminating: I kept thinking over and over the words I would use to reply to one of my buddies’ text messages that somehow had hurt me, although per se there was nothing hurtful in the message. Until, through the fog of rumination and undefined pain, I felt the urge to listen to the song “Hopeless Wanderer” by Mumford & Sons. And that’s when the dam broke, yet again, and painful tears and sobs poured out as the grief washed over me. I found myself squeezing my blue & green Squishmallow dragon tightly, the word “Papá” going through my mind. And then, the thought, “This grief is bottomless, it has no end.” 

“[…]

And I will remember the words that you said

Left a clouded mind and a heavy heart

But I was sure we could see a new start 

[…]

Don’t let your heart grow cold

I will call you by name

I will share your road

But hold me fast, hold me fast

‘Cause I’m a hopeless wanderer

And hold me fast, hold me fast

‘Cause I’m a hopeless wanderer

I wrestled long with my youth 

We tried so hard to live in the truth

[…]

Don’t let your heart grow cold

I will call you by name

I will share your road

But hold me fast, hold me fast

‘Cause I’m a hopeless wanderer

And hold me fast, hold me fast

‘Cause I’m a hopeless wanderer

And I will learn, I will learn

To love the skies I’m under

And I will learn, I will learn

To love the skies I’m under

The skies I’m under

“

[“Hopeless Wanderer” by Mumford & Sons]

Ten years ago was the last Christmas I had with my father, the last Christmas I’ll ever have with him. At the time, I didn’t really think I might never see him again. I needed to move away, to go to California, to go find myself. As it turned out, I had to lose my father to find myself. 

At that Christmas Eve dinner ten years ago, when I told my parents & sister that I was about to move to California, my father’s bitter, shocked comment was: “What’s wrong with you? Why can’t you just settle down like everyone else?” 

I had expected something similar from him and wanted to avoid harsh conflict while also asserting myself so I gave him the answer I had prepared: “If I had been born a hundred years ago, I would have been one of those men going on expeditions like discovering the South Pole. I’m an explorer. That’s why I need to go.” 

I had to go find and live my truth. I don’t think he ever understood that. He probably just saw me as a “hopeless wanderer”.

“And I will remember the words that you said

Left a clouded mind and a heavy heart” 

I don’t know if I’ll ever recover from those words my father said to me ten years ago, our last “real conversation”. They might haunt me forever. 

One of my friends once said to me I could choose to imagine that my father would accept and love me as I truly am, if he could see me now. I wish I could, but I think this wound will never heal. This bottomless grief will always be part of me, sabotaging my capacity for closeness. That’s why my buddy’s message hurt yesterday: because I’m projecting on him something that I cannot really have. Ever.