Maybe I am just unusually introspective. I think a lot about being a parent as I get older. It seems that “good parenting” is something that can only be judged in hindsight.
Not long ago, a friend of the family was (understandably) upset. Their mother had passed away. I can relate to this somewhat, because I lost my own mother last year. It turns out though that their stepfather didn’t share the news of her passing for several days.
That really sucks.
As more details came out, we learned that “she was a terrible mother”, and that there hadn’t been any contact with her for some time. Our friend was upset was that they weren’t given the chance to see their mother before she died. There was no “closure”.
I kind of understand, but as I thought more about it I wondered what they would have said as their mother lay dying, that they couldn’t say before? How long had they been out of contact, to not know that your mom was sick in the first place? How do you let that relationship become so irretrievably broken? I have long believed that people don’t say thing in anger that they don’t mean. They only say things that they don’t mean to say. And once something hurtful is said, it can’t be unsaid. It can be forgiven, perhaps, but it can’t be forgotten.
A message to my kids
Thinking about this has caused me to spend a lot of time reflecting on my relationship with my kids. I’m certain that they know that I love them. I hope they know that I would do anything for them. I suspect that they know that I haven’t always been very good at being a good parent.
My parents weren’t great. I now understand that they did their best with what they had, just as I have. Almost every young person I have ever known has sworn that they were going to treat *their* kids better than their parents treated them. But we don’t.
My father’s father abandoned his family when my dad was 4 years old. He just walked out on a sick wife and two boys, aged 4 and 7. So my dad was raised by his mother – until she died when he was 17. Then he joined the military. He was rarely around when I was growing up, often away for 6 to 9 months at a time, and then being home for a month before leaving on his next duty. We moved every couple of years as his career progressed, so we never put down roots. And then he divorced my mom when I was 12 and died of cancer when I was 20. He was only 45. I hated him sometimes for never being with us, but I realize now that he was doing what he thought was best for his family. He didn’t have a dad to learn from, to compare to.
I have known my whole life that I wanted a family. One of my mother’s favorite stories involved someone asking me when I was 4 or 5 years old what I wanted to be when I grew up. My answer? “Married”.
The rearview mirror is a harsh lens
I got my wish. A wife that I love, and 4 awesome children. I always tried to give them my best, believing that teaching discipline, and a good ethic, and honesty, was the best thing that I could do for them. I ensured that the rules were known, and consistently applied. But the rearview mirror is a harsh lens. I see now that I didn’t know what I didn’t know. I allowed myself to be too focused on surviving, too focused on dealing with the next crisis. Too inflexible. I failed too many times to just love them.
So much focus placed on learning to be a good citizen, not enough effort on just being a good person. So many opportunities missed to just play with them, to hug them, to just be with them. And now it’s too late to fix it.
Luckily, despite my failings, or maybe even because of them, my grandchildren seem to be having a much better experience than I gave my kids. I absolutely admire the way that my children parent their children.
Sometimes I regret that I wasn’t the dad that I dreamed of being. I wish I knew then what I know now. I’m disappointed that for all of my intelligence, I wasn’t very smart. I’m afraid that someday, they will remember what I said – rather than what I meant.
So, to my kids I want to say “You are amazing. Keep doing what you are doing. And thank you for letting me be part of your life. I couldn’t live without you.”
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