WOW. Time really flies sometimes. My oldest boy is 5 years old, and for me, because I was able to spend so much time with him when he was a baby, it feels like he should be 10 already. With each new child, time slows down. Thankfully.
But today marks 8 years since my father passed away, quite suddenly.
At the time, I was recently married and more worried about how my mother and sister were going to take it, without him there. While my mother and sister still live in the same house he died in, my mother had not slept another night in that room. My sister has taken it over with her junk instead.
As the years went on I often thought of my Dad, but more in the context of my mom and sis.
Then came the kids…
Boy wouldn’t it have been nice for my Dad to have met my kids. He would have loved them… They have these awesome personalities, much like their mother. I used to say when he was alive that my wife was his favourite “kid” between myself and my sister.
But as the kids get older and as the compliment grows, I find more and more able to relate to him, know what he was thinking and doing in situations where I am facing the same problem. When I yell at my kids (you do too, so don’t deny it), I hear his voice yelling at me for one of the MANY things I did to deserve it.
As I encounter sports and activities, I try to include my kids and listen to their wishes in ways I felt I was not heard. Do we not all strive to be better parents than our parents? I keep fond memories of milestone moments my Dad and I shared, as each of you do with loved ones you have lost.
What I am finding that totally surprised me was that I seem to be remembering more and more that my Dad and I did, or areas where he helped me (like passing accounting, or writing essays early in my University career) as I go through the exact same scenario with my kids. It’s like deja vu. The situation could be reversed, it could be him and me, oe me and one of them.
You never do forget…