I
think my son and I have a similar relationship, although we’re probably more sensitive
to each other and we’ve enjoyed days working closely together on projects
around his house or mine. But we’re individuals following our own
paths. I stood next to him at a time of
unimaginable loss, unable to do anything to help him. His life was his to live,
and no amount of fatherly compassion or caring could change that.
My
daughter, too, has her own life, and now a family. Though she bristles at hearing it, I like to
joke that she’s now owned by another man.
I remember sitting in an ER waiting room, hoping to hear good test
results on the afternoon they rushed her to the hospital. She was in the capable
hands of doctors and a professional staff at a regional medical center. She
was safe and I knew her husband would later care for her and wait on her when
they returned home. Luckily, the emergency was not too serious and she was soon home feeling relatively comfortable.
My
son-in-law’s large family quickly mobilized and soon my daughter’s house was
teeming with cooks and cleaners and babysitters and whatever else was needed
while she recovered. I told the oldest
sister of the clan that I was also ready to help out with any and all chores. The woman sort of looked over my shoulder,
smiled wanly and was quiet. She had no
doubt assessed my capabilities. So I
guessed I wouldn’t be called to active duty very soon. I’d be able to stand around looking patriarchal
and not wear myself out.
In
reality, there has never been much I could do for either of my children when
they met tough times. I’m not a
doctor. I’m not their spouse. I’m an adequate babysitter, but I can’t cook
anything more complicated than hot dogs.
I can’t even lift much anymore, but I remember throwing one or the other
of them up on my shoulders years ago and carrying the little kid around the
park all morning. Just like I’ll carry them
in my heart … forever. I’m their
father.
My
children deserve all of me … my love, my prayers, and eventually … if there’s
any left … my money. There probably won’t be much of it and I haven’t always been terrific at providing
either of the first two. But that doesn’t negate the perfectly
reasonable claim they have on me. And my
heart.
I
brought my daughter and her brother into this world … with the able assistance
of my wife, of course … and I will never
stop being in some way responsible to them.
When
years ago I fell in love with the woman who would fill in the blanks of my life
without insisting I change very much, I never thought about having children. And yet, just as naturally as all of my
ancestors, I became a father. In my case,
the father of two children who I can add to the short list of those who own my
heart. What a loss it would be for me to
not love them as much as I can. Forever.
The at Windswept Press
Murrells Inlet, South
Carolina
