The Weight I Didn’t Pack

As you’re reading this, I’m driving east toward the North Carolina coast with my wife and the middle children of my siblings. I’m writing this less than eleven hours before it arrives in your inbox (if you’re subscribed). At the moment, I still haven’t packed for our week-long vacation. It’s not that I’m a procrastinator—I just let other tasks get the better of me, this article being one of them.

We’ve been taking this annual trip to Ocean Isle Beach for the last fifteen years. My dad and stepmom rent a house, and all of my siblings, spouses, and children converge en masse. The beach house sits equidistant from the ocean and the intercoastal waterway. The sun rises and sets over water there. It’s magical. It’s also the longest stretch of time I’ve ever spent with most of these people in one place.

Since my parents’ divorce when I was about five, I only saw my dad every other weekend. He coached Little League for my brother and me, but neither of us cared much for team sports, much to his chagrin. Give us creeks and frogs, not bases and balls. It dawned on me that these beach trips with my dad are the most time I’ve consistently spent with him since kindergarten.

Add in the half-siblings I didn’t grow up with—eleven and fourteen years younger than me—and it creates scenarios that are both bonding and wedge-worthy. Still, I’m thankful for the chance to spend time with everyone, even if my unfiltered mouth sometimes says the wrong things to the wrong people. I have a bad habit of speaking too freely, and I could stand to bite my tongue more often. Everything doesn’t need to be said, and the baggage I carry doesn’t need to be unloaded on everyone. I’m working on it.

I appreciate that my dad is investing in time with his kids now. I didn’t get that luxury growing up, and that’s just the way the cards were dealt. My parents did the best they could—I see that now. They’re just people, and we all deserve grace and as many do-overs as possible, especially when we’re truly trying to set things right.

My dad isn’t perfect. He dropped the ball plenty when we were kids. But we’re adults now, and he’s making a concerted effort. That’s applaudable. It makes me want to do better, too. There’s no need to dig up the past. Even though some wounds won’t ever fully heal, hearing my dad say he was proud of me—while bobbing in the waves on one of these trips—meant the world. I was thirty-eight years old the first time I heard those words. Better late than never. He’s trying, so I must try, too.

I’m excited to hit the sand. I love spending time with my nieces and nephews. Within twenty-four hours, we’ll all be fishing and body surfing on the meager Brunswick County waves. No one’s childhood was perfect. If it was, well, I bet that person is boring as hell. I’m glad mine wasn’t. As an adult, I’m having way more fun than I’d have been allowed to have as a kid.

The past is the past, and we can’t go back. What we can do is move forward, pack our bags for adventures ahead, and make the most of the days we’re given. I, for one, am packing light. I’m leaving all that old baggage in the past where it belongs, and I’m going to let the waves and salt air soothe my soul.

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Stan Lake is a writer, photographer, and filmmaker currently living in Bethania, North Carolina with his wife Jess and their house full of animals. He split his time growing up between chasing wildlife and screaming on stages in hardcore bands you’ve never heard of. He has been published by Dead Reckoning Collective, The Havok Journal, Reptiles Magazine, Lethal Minds Journal, and many others. He filmed and directed a documentary called “Hammer Down” about his 2005 deployment in support of Operation Iraqi Freedom in with Alpha Battery 5-113^th of the NC Army National Guard. You can find his books, collected works, and social media accounts at www.stanlakecreates.com

As the Voice of the Veteran Community, The Havok Journal seeks to publish a variety of perspectives on a number of sensitive subjects. Unless specifically noted otherwise, nothing we publish is an official point of view of The Havok Journal or any part of the U.S. government.