No matter how many times I listen to it, George Strait’s song “The Breath You Take” always makes my eyes well up. I sit here at my desk, listening to my music as I work — and it hits me (for the millionth time): Time simply does not heal the absence of a father in my sons’ lives. Thank God our lives have been blessed with a few amazing men who love and support us, offer the fatherly sort of advice I need, and are amazing role models the boys can look up to (or identify with). This is good, for try as I might, I simply cannot fill the gap left behind. I can only be the best mother I can — and hope that it is enough.
About a month ago, I tagged along on a road trip to SLO when The Man, and his parents, visited his son for a celebratory birthday lunch. Like in George’s song, this was one of those beautiful moments that take your breath away – unless you found yourself on the outside looking in, as I did.
My emotions took a nose dive as I watched the three generations interact. It was a lovely thing and yet it made me so very sad. Why couldn’t my boys have had this too? Not only has their father died, but their only remaining grandfather doesn’t seem to want to play.
After lunch I stood a few feet away from everyone, looked out at the water, and felt myself crawl into an energetic fetal position. I had to shake myself free from the stuckness I was in – but sometimes it’s just so hard to do.
Most days (when I am stuck on this), I am especially sad for YaYa, the youngest of the boys. The other 2 shared so many more of these “moments” with their dad — although I think that YaYa may have done a better job embracing the memories. On other days, I feel saddest for BoBo for I think that he struggles with how things were in the time-just-prior-to-death rather than remembering the baseball and football games, camping trips, and man-talk. As for DD, I don’t have a good idea of where he is at. But I know that it cannot be easy for him either. No longer is he able to call up for his dose of fatherly advice like he used to. And I just don’t have that level of wisdom that his father provided to offer him. Sometimes, I’m not sure if I’ve anything to offer him
…except my love, I guess. Hopefully, that is enough.