Three of my kids are at summer camp. It’s for a short duration—five days—and as I write this I’m halfway through it. That is to say, I miss them. They weren’t gone for more than a few hours before I asked my wife if it would be pathetic for me to admit I missed them already. She just smiled and let me know it’s what good dads do.
I saw a picture of my oldest daughter yesterday on the camp Facebook post. She was singing, captivating, beautiful. I immediately began to imagine her leaving the nest, perhaps getting married. I have no illusions that when the time comes, I’ll be a wreck. That goes for the boys, too. My oldest is seventeen and though he’s ready and raring to get out and tackle the future, I can only imagine life without him here.
It’s not all sunshine and roses. Sometimes they cook my grits to be sure, and the quiet around here is kind of refreshing—for a while anyway – and then I start thinking about what my other son would be doing if he were here, sitting on the sofa across from me, and I can’t imagine life without him either.
I often hear people complain about their kids. Typically they’re joking or making light out of the stresses parenthood brings. I get it. I’ve probably done it myself, but I shouldn’t. In the last few years I’ve taken to cringing when I hear off-color remarks by parents devaluing their kids, even when I know it’s in jest. If you – like me – have done this, no shame. But let’s stop. There are so many people out there praying desperately for the opportunity to be parents, so many others who have lost children and who would gladly give anything they possess to spend even five minutes with them again.
I can’t imagine that kind of loss.
By the time you read this – Lord willing – all of my kids will be back under my roof and sleeping in their own beds, for a while. The day will come when they’ll leave for good, slowly, one at a time. I don’t know what life will look like then. I simply can’t imagine not getting woken up by a toddler gently climbing into my bed, or by pre-teen kiddos stomping upstairs, or by the young man shutting and relocking the front door after receiving the Amazon shipment for me. I have a hard time imagining life without them, and thankfully I still have a few here to play with when I’m done writing this, and the promise of more coming home in a couple of days.
I can only imagine what they’re thinking about right now. I hope they know how much we love them and value everything they’ve brought into our lives. I suspect that if my wife is right, and we’ve done our job correctly, that a part of them cannot imagine not coming home as well.