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Throughout his childhood, I would routinely take him to his
junior football games, stand on the side line shouting words of encouragement,
and deliver a sweaty, mud-splattered boy to the safety of home. During the
return journey we’d discuss the match and his performance, analysing his
strengths and weaknesses. We’d share our delight about a thunderous tackle and a
defence-splitting pass. We’d discuss a dubious refereeing decision or the
histrionic behaviour of the opposition’s manager. Often I would nag him about
trailing sludge into my car and sullying the upholstery, and he’d urge me to
“chill out”.
Ryan is now over six-feet tall, with a build like a spinach-fuelled Popeye. In an entertaining game, his pub team defeated their local rivals, 4 – 2. My son impressed in the central midfield area, spraying precision passes around the field with his cultured left foot – an asset (I insist) that he inherited from his father. Ryan scored one goal, and created two others.
At the end of the game, I bristled with pride as I marched
onto the pitch to congratulate him.
“Well played son; that was a great performance.”“Cheers, dad” he replied.
And then he left with his team-mates, heading for the pub to
celebrate their victory with some post-match beers and sandwiches, an enjoyable
pilgrimage I had made multiple times during my football-playing days.
I returned to my car, alone. As I set off for home, a
profound emptiness engulfed me. A ridiculous voice in my head screamed, “He
should be with me!” The voice of reason retorted, “He’s crossed the threshold
into adulthood; he no longer requires your chaperone.” My vision blurred as I
struggled to see through a watery haze. I pulled over to the side of the road.
The pollen count must have been high.
Those should be tears of joy. Your son is independent and does what he wants. Don't grieve for what you perceive you don't have (the company of your son as it was in the old days). Instead, celebrate that your legacy has moved on. Parenting.....you're doing it right!
ReplyDeleteDeech, thanks for reading and commenting.
DeleteI understand the logic, but sometimes the rational and the emotional do not correspond.
It's a moving moment when you realize your offspring's independence!
ReplyDeleteYes, very true Eva. Time doesn't stop moving forward and we have to move (excuse the pun) with it.
DeleteWhen they're small they look at us like we're gods, but as they get older and need us less it does hurt, and I hurt for you. But the flip side of this is that you've raised an exceptional young man who can function well in society. Not every parent can say this. Merry Christmas to you, or is it Happy Christmas where you are? Take care.
ReplyDeleteMerry (or happy) Christmas to you, your wife and son, Stephen. I'm so grateful for all your support throughout 2014.
DeleteI've heard that some artists felt empty when they finished a great work that occupied much of their time. Maybe it's time to immerse yourself in a new project..
ReplyDeleteI like to believe I'm a well adjusted bloke. Thankfully, the emotional reaction was transient. Have a great Christmas and New Year.
DeleteYou have to let them go knowing you did your job as a good parent in raising them.
ReplyDeleteCheers and Happy Holiday!
And a happy (beer-swilling, food gobbling) holiday period to you too, Phil.
DeleteThe realization that life continues before we're ready for it to confuses us all at times. I remember walking my oldest daughter down the aisle to give her away to her husband to be. When the minister asked, "Who gives this woman", it was very difficult to say "I do" as my throat had swelled and emotions overwhelmed. Very well done, my friend!
ReplyDeleteI suspect that will be my reaction when/if my 20-year-old daughter marries.
DeleteThanks for all your support in 2014.
Read this the other day on my phone, but couldn't comment. Really enjoyed it. Made me a little sad for my future. Loved the last sentence. Beautiful.
ReplyDeleteGreat to hear from you, Kate. And thank you for your generous comments - you've always seemed to be on my wavelength, and to understand how my (often warped) brain works.
DeleteI hope you and your family have a super New Year.
I am crying. I am emotional. I am out of control.
ReplyDeleteDamn you.
I loved this SO MUCH.
Who are you...that you make me feel like this?
Are you in Britain?
Fabulous post (as usual..)
Wow, Kim, that's such an endorsement from someone so gifted at conveying emotion in words.
DeleteAnd, yes, I'm a Brit, living in Lancashire in the north of England.
Wishing you and your family a peaceful and successful 2015.
Awwwww…you tugged at my heart with this one. Beautifully written. And yes, the pollen count must be high here, too. XO
ReplyDeleteThanks Marcia for all your support throughout 2014. I wish you, your family, (and your book) further success in the coming year.
ReplyDeleteWill try from my phone for the third time, since my other comment seem to not go through:
ReplyDeleteHow bittersweet! Letting your children go must be one of the toughest milestones for any parent. I'm already dreading it, and for me it's still many years away.
But how great that you can cherish the awesome moments you've had and appreciate the progress Ryan had made.
Happy 2015!
Daniel, sorry to hear you had such trouble leaving your leaned feedback. Thank you for persevering. And a wonderful 2015 to you, sir; I appreciate your support and interest throughout 2014.
DeleteI'm wit ya, brudder.
ReplyDeleteMy son is 22 years old and there have been times when I've felt the same as you.
But, then he takes the old man golfing with a clear confidence...
that the old man will be asleep by nine and then the fun can start.
Yes, that sounds about right.
DeleteDon't worry. If I ever get out your way, I'll be glad to take you out for a pint (or several). Then we can tell each stories of our success at soccer (football). I'll be mostly lying.
ReplyDeleteWe can fib together about our sporting prowess!
Delete