Kids
You know, God doesn't give you children. He just lends them to you so you can raise them. Unfortunately, by the time that realization hits you, the best years may already be gone. See, they WILL break your hear. They will. They're going to grow up.
You always knew it would happen. You just didn't realize it would be so damned soon. One day they're running around the house, making too much noise and too much mess. The next day, they're packing their stuff into boxes and moving out. To add insult to injury, you'll probably have to help them pack and then help them move. Then you come back home and there's a gigantic hole in your house and in your heart.
It's always been part of the deal. You knew that. You raise them, and if you do it right, they'll grow up and move on. They leave the nest. If they never left you'd be a terrible failure as a parent. You'd have to be stupid not to know it was going to happen. After all, you left home. You did it with all the excitement of starting off on any new adventure. You made it. You were a grown up. And you never quite understood why mom or dad or mom and dad couldn't quite look you in the eye. Why were they so quiet? Why weren't they as excited as you were? It was strange but you didn't have time to worry about it because you were on your way.
When your own kids make the big move you're proud of them. But there's a little secret part of you that thinks they might come back. You want them to succeed, but you'll welcome them back in a heart beat if things don't work out. If they can't quite afford that apartment, or if they don't like their new roommate, they're always welcome to come back. Secretly you hope that they do..
Then one day they tell you that they have great news. They're in love. They're getting married. Suddenly you're hit with a flood of emotions. You're happy for them. You're excited. You start planning for the wedding. Then it hits you. It may be late at night when you can't sleep, or it may come out of the blue in the middle of the day. Married??? That means they're never coming back. This is it. They're fully grown and the ties are going to be cut. You tell yourself that nothing will change, but in your heart you know it will.
Your son or daughter is starting a family of their own. It's the circle of life. It's been happening to every generation since Adam and Eve. You're an idiot if you didn't expect it would happen to you. Why this sudden, overwhelming sadness? Could it be that you realize you're getting old? You're not that twenty-something or thirty-something chasing a two-year-old around the yard anymore. Instead of checking the business section of the paper to see which of your friends has gotten a promotion, you're checking the obituaries to see if any of them has died and hoping you don't see your own name. You used to make fun of the Viagra commercials. Suddenly you're paying a little more attention, thinking, "maybe I should talk to my doctor."
The song "Sunrise, Sunset" used to make me cry when I heard it. Now I cry when I just think about it. One by one they grow up and go up and each one takes part of your heart with them and you wonder if you can spare any more. You'd think it would get easier with each kid but it doesn't. It gets harder.
My head tells me that we've done our job. It's time for them to start their own families and it's time for us to slow down and relax and do the things we've put off. That's what my head says. My heart says something entirely different. My heart wants to yell "Stop! Don't go! Don't do it! There are still things that we haven't done together. I want to make up for all those times when I was at work when I should have been taking you to the park or to a ball game, or just sitting with you on the back steps."
You realize that you didn't hug them nearly enough or tell them you love them nearly enough. Remember those ball games, and school plays, and dance recitals you used to complain about? You'd give anything to go to just one more; to say "That's my little girl" or "That's my little boy." But those days are gone forever. Twenty years, thirty years, gone in a flash. Why didn't somebody tell me it would be over so soon?
But you can't back. You can only go forward. And the future will be great. It will be different, but it will be great. But, God it hurts sometimes.
You always knew it would happen. You just didn't realize it would be so damned soon. One day they're running around the house, making too much noise and too much mess. The next day, they're packing their stuff into boxes and moving out. To add insult to injury, you'll probably have to help them pack and then help them move. Then you come back home and there's a gigantic hole in your house and in your heart.
It's always been part of the deal. You knew that. You raise them, and if you do it right, they'll grow up and move on. They leave the nest. If they never left you'd be a terrible failure as a parent. You'd have to be stupid not to know it was going to happen. After all, you left home. You did it with all the excitement of starting off on any new adventure. You made it. You were a grown up. And you never quite understood why mom or dad or mom and dad couldn't quite look you in the eye. Why were they so quiet? Why weren't they as excited as you were? It was strange but you didn't have time to worry about it because you were on your way.
When your own kids make the big move you're proud of them. But there's a little secret part of you that thinks they might come back. You want them to succeed, but you'll welcome them back in a heart beat if things don't work out. If they can't quite afford that apartment, or if they don't like their new roommate, they're always welcome to come back. Secretly you hope that they do..
Then one day they tell you that they have great news. They're in love. They're getting married. Suddenly you're hit with a flood of emotions. You're happy for them. You're excited. You start planning for the wedding. Then it hits you. It may be late at night when you can't sleep, or it may come out of the blue in the middle of the day. Married??? That means they're never coming back. This is it. They're fully grown and the ties are going to be cut. You tell yourself that nothing will change, but in your heart you know it will.
Your son or daughter is starting a family of their own. It's the circle of life. It's been happening to every generation since Adam and Eve. You're an idiot if you didn't expect it would happen to you. Why this sudden, overwhelming sadness? Could it be that you realize you're getting old? You're not that twenty-something or thirty-something chasing a two-year-old around the yard anymore. Instead of checking the business section of the paper to see which of your friends has gotten a promotion, you're checking the obituaries to see if any of them has died and hoping you don't see your own name. You used to make fun of the Viagra commercials. Suddenly you're paying a little more attention, thinking, "maybe I should talk to my doctor."
The song "Sunrise, Sunset" used to make me cry when I heard it. Now I cry when I just think about it. One by one they grow up and go up and each one takes part of your heart with them and you wonder if you can spare any more. You'd think it would get easier with each kid but it doesn't. It gets harder.
My head tells me that we've done our job. It's time for them to start their own families and it's time for us to slow down and relax and do the things we've put off. That's what my head says. My heart says something entirely different. My heart wants to yell "Stop! Don't go! Don't do it! There are still things that we haven't done together. I want to make up for all those times when I was at work when I should have been taking you to the park or to a ball game, or just sitting with you on the back steps."
You realize that you didn't hug them nearly enough or tell them you love them nearly enough. Remember those ball games, and school plays, and dance recitals you used to complain about? You'd give anything to go to just one more; to say "That's my little girl" or "That's my little boy." But those days are gone forever. Twenty years, thirty years, gone in a flash. Why didn't somebody tell me it would be over so soon?
But you can't back. You can only go forward. And the future will be great. It will be different, but it will be great. But, God it hurts sometimes.
posted by Mike at 12:17 AM
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