This
past week we have
been to two funerals
and a wedding. I
seem to recall that
there was a funny
movie about such as
this a few years
ago. I didn’t think
of the experiences
of this week as
humorous.
The funerals were
for relatives of
(Mother and a mother
in law) of close
friends. You go to
those to show
support for your
friends and to let
them know you care
about your
friendship. The
wedding was for the
son of my wife’s
cousin. It was nice,
and so were the
funerals. Both of
the ladies who had
died had lived long
and productive
lives. Both died in
their sleep without
any long lingering
illness, the best
way you can go.
But the point here
is not about
funerals or
weddings, it’s about
kids. All of you
readers who have
children can relate
to what I am about
to say. It’s about
our relationship
with our kids.
We never stop being
our parent’s sons or
daughters no matter
how old we are. So,
even though one of
the women that died
was 94 years
old…..her children
were always her
babies, not matter
how old they were.
I’m sure they felt
her continuing love
and concern for them
until the day she
passed away.
You never stop
worrying about them
no matter how old
they are. When they
are out of town or
on the road, you
want to know they
arrived or got home
safely. A lot of
times they seem to
get irritated when
you ask them to call
or you call them
just to make certain
they are ok. They
tell you they are
grown, and indeed
they are, but you
still worry and are
concerned, that’s
what being a parent
is all about. That’s
also what love is
all about. If you
didn’t love them,
why would you want
to know they were
safe? It comes with
the package.
We have four sons, I
started to say we
have four boys, but
they aren’t boys any
longer, they are
men. We have two
granddaughters. One
is almost fifteen
and the other is
three. I’d be
willing to bet that
my sons will worry
about those girls as
we continue to worry
about our boys. It’s
a natural thing to
do.
I got into a
discussion with one
of my sons the other
week. We got to
talking about cell
phone calls. I asked
why he didn’t answer
his calls sometimes
and he said it was
because “I turn my
phone off at night.”
I told him when he
had kids he wouldn’t
do that. He asked
why I always
answered my cell
phone when he called
even when I am busy
and don’t have time
to talk.
I told him when he
became a father,
he’d understand.
Only when you are a
parent can you begin
to understand.
In today’s world of
caller id, we can
always choose who we
want to take calls
from and who we
don’t want to talk
to. I’m not the best
person to talk to on
the phone since I
hate to engage in
chit-chat. In fact
I’m so bad that
people always know
that I’m in the car
driving on a road
trip when they get a
call from me and I
want to talk. They
usually start the
conversation off
with something along
the lines of… “Where
are you driving to,
today?”
I’m better than I
used to be, but I
could still do with
a lot of
improvement.
Anyway, when you get
calls from your
kids, you take them,
no matter if you’re
in the mood to talk
or not. No matter
what time of the day
or night it is. They
could be in an
accident, in the
hospital or in jail
and you’d want to
know about it. They
could also be in
love.
You want those
calls, no matter
when, so you can
help, if you need to
do so.
We all hate those
calls from our kids
after ten at night.
Those are like the
telegrams our
parents and
grandparents got
back in the thirties
and forties.
Generally they
aren’t good. But we
take them anyway,
because that’s what
we do when we are
parents.
I don’t know how or
if I want to break
this habit. As much
as I know it hacks
my kids off to keep
track of them as
adults, I hope
someday they will
realize how much we
cared about them and
we were always there
if they needed us.
The world we live in
isn’t the same as it
was when I was a
kid. It gets dark
and scary and lots
of bad things happen
to good people.
When my time comes
and they lay me to
rest, I just want my
sons to know that
they were loved and
that my wife and I
were concerned about
their well being. To
do otherwise seems
to me to defeat the
very definition of
being a good parent.
