We are a father and a son. He is a son and a father. There is a complexity in each of us. We are so different. We are so alike. Living under the same roof. Two men. Dancing around each other as equals and enigmas. We peacefully coexist. In silence. A few feet, several decades, and core values apart.
Respect keeps us at bay. Love keeps us together. I learn about myself more by being around him than likely from any other source. It is hard at times and that is when it is best for me. Then is when he really shines. For he is his own man. He made choices that are his and his alone. He lives with them with an acceptance that is likely bravado or bullshit but works for him. When I question it, it is my question to answer for the question is of me rather than of him. There comes a point when Fathers are not to question sons anymore. There comes a point when fathers have to realize the son they would question has become the man who has his own questions to handle. At some point, sons stop asking fathers. At that point, the man handles his own questions in his own way. My son is a man and it is my place to let him ask himself questions of his own making.
When I want to remember my son’s strength and beauty, I need only see him with his own son. He plays with him. Really plays with him. Two buddies. Just as his Grandfather wanted to do with his father and his father wanted to do with him. Yet, life kept us doing what was right. Right for who? For the kid that is now a Dad that plays with his son? I thought so. Maybe that is the reward for having missed a boat long ago and realizing my father missed that same boat. Maybe that is the lesson. Life is about learning.
Lessons learned as a man watching a man father in his way. My way was different than my father’s way. My father’s way was different than his father’s way. Life is a continuum of trying to get it right. I have evidence under my roof that my son loves his son more than life itself. Who am I to question whatever the hell I would question? He is a good man for being a good father. That is enough. Maybe that is my lesson. Maybe that is his gift to me. He is different. As a father, he is different. As a man, he is different. What is the same is that he loves his son just as I love him and my father loved me. That is enough. More than enough when it is all said and done.
Happy Birthday, Pat.
I love you, Dad
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