Parents, Kids, and That Priceless "Now"

Copyright © 2019

by Ralph F. Couey

A person's life can be said to be broken up into different segments, call them chapters, phases, or whatever your favorite partitional noun might be.  At its most basic, there is childhood and adulthood.  But it's really more complex.  There are many markers or signposts which mark significant moments of change for us.  While most are important, there really is nothing that alters one's life and the path through it like parenthood.

I can only speak to the male perspective on this, but I remember that first moment I held my infant son in my arms.  Inside, my heart and brain were ringing with the crashing realization that I was responsible for this tiny human being, and how he turned out was going to be either my triumph or my fault.  

It is simplistic to assume that while a baby requires a lot of work and close attention, and the need to hover over them lessens over time.  In truth, until they reach the age of mature, responsible adulthood, parents need to be fully involved.  It's not like changing diapers, per se, but it's no less taxing and difficult.  In particular, teens need to be closely looked after because the last thing in their brains that develops is that section that deals with consequence.  They all believe they're brilliant, and smarter than us, but you only have to look as far as the news to know how tragically flawed that line of thinking can be.

I don't think any of us is any different in remembering our Dads as strong, principled, smart, and wise.  Regardless of what the problem was, they always had the solution.  It's not until we stand on the other side of that coin that we realize that behind that rock-like exterior was a human being terrified of screwing up his kids.  That fear is very real, because you know that it's not just what you might do to them, but what pain the world will inflict at that moment when we are not around to act.

But beyond those dark possibilities, there is also joy; a lot of joy.  For most of two decades, you are their teacher, their font of wisdom, their example to follow.  I had to realize that the methods for helping them along had to change as they grew older. Also, I needed to figure out ways to be involved in what they were doing, be it baseball, soccer, gymnastics, and backing up the school system at home.  If I had those years to do over, I definitely would have spent less time playing softball, bowling, and watching television and more time just being with them.  Both Cheryl and I coached their teams.  We split up the homework duties, she sticking with math and science, me pitching in with humanities.  Despite our best efforts, we both made mistakes.  And we still see in them today the results of those missteps. 

But around those moments are times when being their parents was fun. I still remember the years I spent coaching our son's baseball teams, and how that helped bridge the space between us.  Also, I learned a lot about my son's competitive drive and how his smarts and personality manifested that drive.  He is now in the Navy and approaching retirement, but as I watch him live his life, I can still see that frustrated boy on the pitching mound who couldn't understand why the other team wouldn't just strike out.  We still share that passion.  Last February, we went to Kansas City and shivered through that impossibly frigid AFC Championship game.  We mourned the result, but the shared experience will stay with us forever.

Daughters are a whole 'nother deal entirely.  I was a boy, so I understood my son based on that shared experience.  Having never been a girl, my daughters rendered me clueless.  Of course every Dad in history, when their daughter's dates came a-calling, can only see in those boys a younger version of themselves. Scary stuff, that.  The path of their thinking and reasoning was alien to me, and at times, to their mother as well.  But we tried hard while we went to their games, concerts, recitals, understanding that the most important thing to them was looking out into the audience and seeing us.

We took several family trips over the years, and those remain my most vivid memories.  We saw a lot of incredible sights and shared so much along the way.  I remember driving down a highway, all six of us howling with laughter over any number of funny things.  We hiked, rode horses, fed prairie dogs, camped, and we did it all together.  One of the things that brings a smile involved our lodging.  The laws state that there can be no more than 5 people in a hotel room.  There being six of us, we had to smuggle one of the kids into the room out of sight of the office.  One time, Crystal left here beloved teddy bear, named Cambridge, at a hotel and didn't realize it until we were a hundred mile further down the road.  So we stopped, made a phone call, and when we returned home, Cambridge was there waiting.  I'll never forget how her face lit up when she opened up the box and reunited with her bear.  

There are other memories, snippets of places and occurrences that we share, the kinds of recollections that bring laughter around the holiday table. These days, those microcosms flit through my mind, on occasion presenting themselves in full clarity, a memory to be relived and cherished.

I tried hard to be the best Dad I could be.  I could have done better.  Should have done better.  But the past is the past, unchangeable by any manipulative effort.  Good, bad, or indifferent, it is what it is.  The relationship between these adults and their Dad is necessarily different now.  Before, they only thought they were smarter than me.  Now, they actually are.  They learned from our mistakes, and have applied those lessons to the raising of their own kids.  But those times we spend together now are rare and therefore to be treasured.  And there are grandchildren, lovely, brilliant little echoes of the children their parents once were.  They are sources of great joy and pride as their own accomplishments begin to mount up.  Thanks to 21st century technology, we can visit with them through video calls and while those are wonderful, even magical, but it'll never replace their hugs.

I gotten into the habit of telling young parents when I see them to cherish these years because they will be over all too soon.  Some don't understand, but most do.  The most important space between a parent and child is that thing we call "now."  It only lasts a moment, but that moment will always be filled with things that will dwell forever in that magnificent treasure chest we call the human heart.