I dropped off eighteen birthday cakes today at the University of Texas. While I was there I also delivered one Boy Scout uniform, a dozen or so baseball gloves, a very handsome prom tux, a thousand jars of baby food, and a humongous tub of Legos. Along with my wife we unloaded a crate of grooming supplies, a thousand cheeseburgers, a hundred carefully wrapped Christmas presents, more than a few Easter bunnies, a hundred different shaped bottles and boxes of juice and milk and water, and a box of Pokeman cards, long since dog-eared by little fingers. Mixed among these things were a slew of late-night conversations about magic and God, countless tickle fights, innumerable readings of Dr. Seuss, and a couple of years of lullabies, sung with more heart than precision. And we certainly didnt forget the sunblock. We left all this behind today, with a hug and a wave, in the person of our boy, who is a boy no more, but a young man about to take on the world. Hell need all these things, we hope, because this -- and so much more -- is what weve put into making him the good and gentle person that he is. Our boy, our little man, is on his own today, and even though we wouldnt have it any other way, he takes a piece of our home with him, a piece that will never be returned. And we worry that all those things that went with him, most in the form of memories, some now crowded into a tiny dorm room, were enough, were the right things at the right time, were what he needed in order to become the best man that he can be. If not, its too late to change the mix, too late to swap out that one birthday gift he pretended to like for the one he really wanted, no opportunity to take a moment and sit him down to explain what he really needed to hear rather than just impatiently sending him to his room. The moment is past to help him with his homework when were too busy, hold him when he hurts because we didnt notice, share a laugh at something too goofy for our taste. We know we werent perfect parents, so we have to accept that there were times when our boy needed to learn to deal with hurt on his own, had to figure out a way all by himself to clear hurdles that seemed too high for his reach. But I suppose those are important skills to have in this world, so my wife and I will just have to learn to forgive ourselves for those times when we were lost in our own limitations, and werent perceptive enough, or loving enough, or patient enough. Besides, Ive noticed over the years that folks who try to be perfect parents tend to either drive their kids crazy or prevent them from growing up, so we never really aspired to perfection anyway. Parents cant take all the credit for the goodness (or rottenness) of their kids; peers and genes and the state of the world in which theyre raised leave indelible marks on all of us, from our youngest days. We really just hope that weve given enough, of the things and -- most importantly -- at the times, that really mattered. And based on the young man that stood before us as we pulled out of the university parking lot, I think we did OK. Kind, helpful, with a love of laughter and a clear sense of right and wrong -- hes a good kid, a good young man, and we sure are proud to call him son. Now we can only hope that hell take what weve given him, will forgive us for what we havent, and will take the many joyful memories weve shared and lessons hes learned, and multiply them in his heart and head a thousandfold, then share them with a world so desperately in need of the quality of goodness that were certain is within him. Go get em, big kid. We know youll make us proud. But we sure are going to miss having you around.
Posted on: Tue, 26 Aug 2014 16:19:07 +0000
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