It’s almost two years now since I walked Emily down the aisle. Like millions of fathers before me, I now understand all too well, the emotions that flow to the surface that day. On one hand, it’s a goal accomplished. This is what you have worked for, helping your child prepare for the world that awaits them. On the other hand … your role of father changes abruptly. Her husband is now the “go to guy”, as well he should be. I just didn’t realize how much I would miss being that “go to guy”.
I miss her. Oh, we still get together from time to time, mostly just to exchange life stories. We celebrate victories … we share one another’s pain in life’s disappointments. We hug! We say goodbye.
Every once in a while, I get that call asking for my opinion. Happy, happy, joy, joy. Then the days go by and you don’t hear a thing.
I now know how my own mother felt when I failed to call or visit. If I had it to do over again, I’d visit her more often. But that time is gone. My mom died three years ago this month. At the time, I thought I was paying enough attention to mom. Now, I realize that you can never pay too much attention to your mother or father.
My mom was all too aware of the feelings of guilt that a parent can bestow upon their adult child. She told me stories about her own mother’s guilt laden comments. “Why are you spending all this time painting. You have a house to clean, you know.” That’s why my mom seldom went out of her way to lay a “guilt trip” upon me. Likewise, I try very hard to not lay a guilt trip upon either of my daughters.
Susan’s not married. I’m still her “go to guy” … at least it seems that way. Yes, I know she too has her friends and support systems. Yet, unlike her sister, when push comes to shove, I’m still her “go to guy”.
That’s life! It’s time to live mine and stop living my life through the lives of my children. And that’s exactly what I’m doing. In many ways, I’ve never enjoyed life like I do today. It just seems that no matter how fulfilling your life is, you still ache from time to time for the days when … “It’s 10 PM! Do you know where your child is?”
