Teach me

My kids surprise me, and I am stronger for it. Their ability to just be, and to take things as they come is something that I admire in them. I wish I had more of their carefree spirit at times. There is something to be learned by watching an 8 yr old kiss their Dad's "memory rock" run in a field and laugh with her brother. The two of them in awe at the little cessna planes flying over head, each of them yelling to the other to look up and read the numbers on the underbelly of the planes. How do they see beyond the sadness in this moment? How do they frolic at a cemetery?? I want to learn this from them, I want to look around me and see what they see. I tend to the garden as my coffee sits atop the wall and I wonder how I got here. I realize that this is not the same place I was last year, or the year before. I dig into the earth and listen to the kids some more and I drink my coffee, suddenly feeling unrushed as I notice the heat of the sun as it warms my back. It feels nice and comforting. The kids run off to the pond hollering about the fish and tadpoles they hope to discover. I don't think to stand up or "shoosh" them even though there are other people visiting their loved ones today. They sound like pure joy to me. I take my time weeding the garden and placing the new night lights the kids picked out for Father's Day. I stand back and admire the little garden we've created. I sip my coffee and watch the kids across the field. I smile to myself as I realize, everything around me seems so beautiful.

I thought I was okay. I was even pleasantly surprised with my own go-with-the-flow attitude over the last week. Standing in hallways speaking to teachers who ever so gently tried to tell me that they “might” have encouraged Noah to make a present for Grandpa instead of his Dad for Fathers Day. The hesitation hanging in the air as they looked to me for some sort of reaction. Approval maybe? I listened not knowing what to say, so I forced a smile. I thought in my head that the proper response should have been, “Oh thanks, or maybe “Oh, that’s good” but the words wouldn’t come. Then, another sentence to fill the silence I had left. ”Well, we did suggest that he could make one for one of his Uncles, or his other Grandpa, but he seemed a bit confused and didn’t know what to do.” I wondered silently to myself if they had even asked him what he wanted to do before throwing out suggestions to fill the awkward teacher-student moment that lay before them. I couldn’t ask them myself, it seemed cruel or judgmental to even inquire.

As I prepared supper tonight, the kids were doing some crafts and we were listening to music. The evening sun was shining in and I noticed how nice it was to see the kids puttering about chatting freely to one another. Out of the blue Audrey turned to me and said, “My friends feel sorry for me.” I kept chopping potatoes and casually asked why she thought that. “Well, someone asked if that picture was even my Dad, and that it must be so sad that it’s Fathers Day and I don’t have a Dad.” Audrey looked to me with what seemed like hopeful eyes for some wise words. I was stumped, not sure what to say but knowing that I should pick my words carefully. I could feel her struggling with the strong emotions that had been brewing for a few days now. I asked her what she said to her friend. She replied to her classmate “Yah, its sad, my Dad died, but I have a Grandpa...and this is a picture of my Mom’s friend. He’s my friend too…he makes me laugh, he’s really fun…and he’s a Dad. I’m very sad on Fathers Day but I try to remember my Dad. He was a good Dad.”

I hid my tears from her and agreed, “Yep, he was a really good Dad wasn’t he...”