The last time I was up like
this, I was writing to you all about my friend who had to say goodbye to his father. It turned
out, I was managing the feelings I had about that, through the time my daddie
said goodbye to me. It wasn’t a forever goodbye. It was, you’re in college now,
and daddie can’t do this part with you goodbye. Different goodbyes, yet his
father and my daddie were saying the same thing.
I’m up late right now thinking about another man and his father. This is a pretty special man to
me. I can’t tell you all about him though, not for a lack of time or words – it’s
just not the time yet, and those aren’t the words I have. I have been thinking
about him and his father for a while now. But I know, while it’s genuine, it’s also
a projection.
He and I just happen to be in the same place in our lives. Where
something happens and your father, your pops, your dear old dad, and he has to
become something else. And after they worked so hard their whole lives to give
you all those wonderful experiences growing up, send you off to the best
schools, and work day in and out paying for what all of that costs, you don’t
have enough education or sense to figure out how to get through this.
His father needs him, more
than he needs his father. It’s the not so fun side to raising your parents that
we never status update about on social media. You know, the time when they like
legit NEED you. Like, if you don’t
figure out a way to come through for them, some bad stuff might really happen.
And you might not be equipped for this, but you definitely ain’t prepared for
the bad stuff that might happen. So you figure it out. And that wears
you out. #ThisWomanIsGettingWeary #PretendingImMadeOfStone #projecting
You are oscillating back and
forth between gratitude and grief. He’s
thankful that his father is still here. I am certain of that. But the grief of
this changing relationship, Lord? Having to be there in this new capacity? But
it’s not new at all because it’s what his father has been doing for him his
whole life. Growing up though, you never think the tables are going to be turned.
You assume that your parents are always going to have this power, this
authority, this control. They are always going to be able to veto that holiday
plan you have, because ain’t nobody going
to no damn Las Vegas Bowl the day after Christmas? Is you crazy? You can Las
Vegas Bowl your butt on that couch! Child went off to school and came back
crazy as I don’t know what!
#MyMotherDoesntBelieveInMe
#DreamKiller #PopsIsATraitor #PopsDidntEvenHelpMeOutWithThatOne
Grateful that you have the
means to be able to do this. To fix the world up for them - even though it looks different every time you "fix" it. Grief
because remaining patient and humble through that process takes an expert level
of Jesus and you haven’t been to church in a few Sundays so… #Level:BasicJesus. And
something tells me, even if you were on the front pew taking notes, it would
still be a bit challenging. Like you actually need Jesus to be there with you
through this kind of patience and humility – next to you, zapping you with
patience and humble blessings as you care for your father. Because, #YouBasic.
And who, like WHO can you
actually say this to and not sound like a jerk? I mean, I started this off
with, my friend who had to say goodbye to his
father
– I mean, talk about your first world problems, right? For all the people who
wish they had a father still here to worry over, there’s an equal opposite
amount of those who wish they had the means to do what you’re doing right now.
And you’re over there worrying over a mug of pomegranate tea sweetened with
organic honey. Complain
much?
You say nothing. It’s easier
that way. You suck it up, and do it in silence. My friend isn’t looking for a
handshake, hug, or help even. He is just trying to find his way. Just
like I was some time ago. #StillLookingForThePath #TakeUsToTheKing
So I told him about it. In the
black church, they call that a testimony. It was over a text message though. I
told him what was actually happening to me all those times he was sitting right
next to me. In the car. In the bar. At the tailgate. On the way to the game. All that time, he had no idea. I
knew exactly what he was feeling, although a different father, it was the same
emotion. More like emotions. It’s all of them bruh. Any given moment, you can
be feeling anything on the inside, but that outside is like a rock. We become
the rocks, like Tristan,
that our fathers beat themselves (read: their pride) against. Unshaken. Steadfast. Unmovable.
Strong (read: humble-ish) enough to endure. Everlasting. Because we must. We have inherited this
task.
You can’t give that kind of
grief away. Save that for yourself. Gratitude is good. Use that for Dad.
His father is changing. His
father is doing the most courageous thing a father can do for his son. He’s not
being his son’s superhero anymore. He’s not moving the mountains, capturing
criminals, or saving any more days. He is stepping down, so his son can learn
to use his super powers.
My friend is going to have to
figure this part out all on his own. Something like his father did the instant
he knew he was passing his genetic material on to create the remarkable man I
know today. The great man (my friend) who lets me order
things we both know I won’t finish, but allows me to be great in that moment of
ordering a beer I can’t pronounce because I want to be down. And never says a
mumbling word about it. Okay, he says a few, but he lets me be great. Then drinks the rest of the beer. Because we don't waste alcohol.
Things have to be this way. See,
unlike Matthew
McConaughey, my friend’s father won’t be able to leapfrog
through time. The natural order, probability wise, will likely be preserved in
this instance. This is what is left for us. A desperate, restless, search for
all the horcruxes father has left you. So
you can figure out how to make the cape fit. Lord knows it doesn’t fit yet – not
even close. It too long. It's not the color you imagined your cape would be. Whoa - you actually never even imagined you would actually have a cape because you always thought your father would be here. I mean, you understood passing on the the figurative sense, but not in the "It's definitely going to impact my life" kind of way. An overwhelming panic is setting in. It's real. You have to do this. All on your own.
It’s then you realize just how all powerful your father was. And how ill-equipped you are for this task.
It’s then you realize just how all powerful your father was. And how ill-equipped you are for this task.
I have never doubted what it
takes to be a mother. And I never will. But fathers have an incredible task to
match.
Passing the cape on.
Knowing that it does not fit
yet.
Unsure if they will ever see
it fly.
I suppose that’s the real
lesson fathers teach us. Faith. Believing in something they may never get to
see. Believing in something they might not ever see. The great courage, the
immeasurable love, it takes to have that kind of faith.
…and the burden
to carry it. Like my friend said, it’s hard on the
both of them.
