Mom and Dad

I think it is safe to say that everyone on earth has had two people involved in their conception (Duh), but I wonder at how many had good parents. You know, two people dedicated to the love, nurturing, and development of that child? Two people that not only love one another, but who are involved in who and what their children become. People who stay involved throughout the endless ups and downs of their children's lives.

I am reminded of a scene from a movie where an elderly man shares with his son that being a parent is not like the usual story where your child wins the big game and marries their sweetheart and lives happily ever after...... no. Life is harder than that. If you invest your heart into the life of another you voluntarily get on a roller coaster that lasts as long as you live. There is no great happy ending, it just goes on and on.... That is a big damned commitment.

So, I am the product of two very loving and involved parents. They both brought their own special skills to the upbringing of my self and my siblings. Mom was the more loving and nurturing, and certainly the more playful. Dad was the more disciplined, but in his role as the main distributor of corporal punishment, he also managed to instill a belief in justice and order. Dad was the more intellectually curious, the one challenging most any statement of absolutes. He often discussed issues from points of view I know he did not hold, perhaps just to ensure I knew there is always two sides to most any story. At one time I would swear he loved to argue just for the sake of arguing. Ever had the experience of looking back at something and seeing it in an entirely different light? Looking back at an evening discussing the days events as reported in the local paper, with the backdrop of a setting sun (which seemed to almost always be the time of day we had for such discussions) was more advantageous to the man I have become than any high school or college lecture. At the risk of offending any church going folks, I should include all but a handful of church sermons in that list of failed attempts to effectively alter my view of the world.

So, now, after 5 and a half decades of life it has suddenly become apparent (I know, I am a slow learner) that my parents are not permanent fixtures. I can not begin to relate the depths of consternation this has caused. Oh, rationally I have known they (and all of us) are finite. But knowing it, and experiencing it are two different things. I look in the mirror and see an old man. The stories I have heard about others who have grown older and do not recognize themselves are no longer quite so humorous.... matter of fact, as a great man once said "That's not a damned bit funny".

Guess it is always a matter of ones perspective. The difference between funny and a disaster is whether you are watching America's funniest home videos, or you are on Americas funniest home videos. I wonder if any of the thousands of folks who have had their genitals crushed on that show ever find watching the video near as funny as the rest of us?

So, if I am getting older, that must make my parents........ OLD? They don't look all that much older, or at least they don't sound any older, but how often do we look and really see? Truth is, the cancer that my father is so bravely enduring and fighting is having an effect. Age and it's effects are showing on Mom's short term memory. Oh, the long term memory is good, and we still enjoy Mom, and we can still manage to find humor, even as our frailties are starting to show. But under that is the realization that somewhere out there is the eventual inevitability of saying goodbye. And that is the big unsettling reality with which I am having trouble finding peace.

So, since I promised to be truthful, and this is after all an attempt to share what is in my heart, let me share (at least as best as I am able) what it is that I think I feel.

First, if I think of either Mom or Dad (since they are essentially a single entity in my life), the first thing I feel is love. Both from being loved, and returning the same. Mom has gotten into the habit when we offer our conversation ending "I love you" of jokingly offering "I love you more...". I suspect she does. I would have argued the point to my last breath until I had a child, or more recently grandchildren. I remember Dad saying "This hurts me more than it hurts you..." At the time I thought it was not only the dumbest thing ever uttered, but it was also an insult to my intelligence. Again, perspective changes everything. My Daughter has at one time or another been distressed, and I know it hurts me worse than it does her. When my granddaughter cries, my soul aches. I would eagerly and happily face a deliberate Americas funniest home video moment in exchange for them no longer suffering whatever it is that has caused them grief. There is no comparison. I will accept, as the one who entered in to a partnership with God in my creation, that my parents love me more than I could ever love them. That is, if you could actually compare such things.

After loved and loving, the next thing I feel is blessed. They are not just my parents, they are my friends. As good as I will ever know. Harry Chapin had a song that went "old friends, mean much more to me than new friends, they know where you are, and they know where you've been....." Who knows better the story of my life?

Any time spent in their company has been a blessing. The conversation flows over most any subject, and the exchange of ideas and values shared always has constituted one of life's special blessings. And always there is humor. Of all Gods blessings, there has always been an ability to find something to laugh about. Still, in the most difficult of times, they share humor. I hope they know one of the things I will miss most is our times being silly.

A feeling of being grounded. Whatever life offered, a call to Mom and Dad offered immediate grounding. Thankfully, as of late the need has not been so great to call and garner reassurances that all is OK. The only insurance policy I really ever thought I needed was the knowledge that Mom and Dad were there..... available. How ever will I face a world without them there? I know, selfish, but this is my attempt to ensure nothing has ever been left unsaid.

Surprisingly, I have no regrets. None. I think that should be a matter of comfort, but as I think of a world without them, it offers little solace. Just the knowledge that there will be an enormous void that only they filled.

I think what I am searching for, and as of yet have found elusive, is that feeling of peace. That all is well with the world. Most of my life (with few exceptions) I have felt that underlying peace. I have assumed it was based on faith. I am not exactly feeling that underlying peace at present, matter of fact, since I sat under an oak tree out in front of a hotel in Houston (on a warm summer evening) and heard Dad share that he had a cancer have I experienced that deep soul calming peace. Not even at Christmas, nor in the presence of our extended family. I have not known that deep sense that all is going according to plan in a long time. I wonder if this is a matter of my having a weak faith, or just borrowing trouble, or of having lost my way. Is there something left unsaid? As a world class motor mouth that is hard to believe.

On a cerebral level I believe that all life is good, and love wins. Therefore, on some level I know we can never really be parted, and that we are, and will always be, part of one another's existence.

I also know that there is a tendency to see our children as the little ones we nurtured. I know when I see my daughter, I not only see the woman she has become, but I also see the little girl I cherished. I suspect that even tho I am older, and a man past his prime, when my parents look at me they still see the little boy into which they invested so much of themselves. I think they might be right. I think the little boy still lives in there. As of late he is constantly tugging at my heart, looking up with tear filled bright blue eyes wondering if the world can ever be OK without Mommy and Daddy. He can not accept that the biggest man, and softest most loving woman, the cornerstones of his life, could ever leave him. As of yet, I don't know what to tell him.