About a month ago I had called my wife to ask a question, I don’t remember what it was about, but as I was trying to get off the phone she told me my son wanted to talk to me. I remember being in a hurry and said I would call back. “Are you really not going to talk to your son”? Together or not my wife knows how to get my attention and she loves to do it too.
“Did you say no daddy”? You need to understand my son is the sweetest little guy you have ever met. Don’t get me wrong, he’s a boy. He loves his Woody and Buzz and Jesse dolls, Lightning McQueen is the man to him, he eats like a monster if you serve him pizza or macaroni and cheese, and refuses to eat anything if you serve pretty much anything else, and more than anything he loves to aggravate his sisters. You hear his little voice though and immediately you see how delicate he is. He is just a good little guy who doesn’t want his little feelings hurt.
“Daddy did you say no”?
On the exterior I remained real calm and simply said “Of course not buddy”, but inside I was on my knees begging for him to stop asking me that. That little voice and that direct of a question fueled by such a pure need, man it’s powerful. I spent the majority of their lives, all of my kids lives, gone. I was so self absorbed and consumed by darkness. I wonder how many times I walked by each of them and they reached out to me and I didn’t even see it because I was just looking to get out the door. That guilt is crushing. No I don’t dwell on it, but it’s not an easy one to forget.
As a parent from the time your children start walkin until they are about 5 years old a lot of people think their job is to just keep their kids alive. At least that was my thinking. I think I justified my basic abandonment of them because their mom is a good mom, they’re safe. Isn’t it amazing how we can look at a completely insane thought and go “yeah that makes sense”?
Today I see my children on Wednesdays and on weekends. I don’t get to wake up with them. I rarely get to tuck them in. When I am with them today though I cannot get enough of them. I want them all sitting on my lap at once with my arms wrapped around them. I pay attention to everything they say. I answer every question. I make everything they do a big deal. I try to set boundaries and I don’t let them get away…. Okay that’s a big fat lie, but I do set some boundaries so they don’t just walk all over me (not all the time at least). Most of our time is spent at the park or at McDonalds, and I am not just their to appease them for 15 minutes at which time I can load them up and take them back to mommy. I spoil them, and play with them, and feed them junk food and make them laugh until they feel like they’re gonna puke because they are great kids and they deserve a lot more from me than a vanishing act. Isn't it ironic how these little people are the biggest victims of my past, and they love me more than anything, unconditionally.
What a blessing.
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