Lucy was hitting me with all kinds of sad as I tried to leave the daycare. “Wave through the window, Daddy. It might be the last time.”
What?
On my way to the car, I stopped. Turned and waved, intrigued by the way her strange phrase hung in the air. She was abandoned on the shore, waving to her Dad as he set out to sea for some undisclosed, but long, amount of time. I soaked her in. Long blonde hair, messy, brushed by Dad. So pink clad. The pink combined with the deep blue of her eyes to connote cotton candy and bubble gum—sweet little kid things. All startlingly juxtaposed with the fact of her genuine sadness. I don’t think the expression of sadness is something learned in a culture. No. Little kids seem to enter the world with innate capacities to be profoundly unhappy. Practiced in the art of mourning.
What do you know, little girl, about last things?
The last time I saw Skip, we were on a sidewalk in E. Lansing, freshly kicked out of a bar. I told him to get in the car or I’d leave him there. He said he’d catch me later.
My parents live 2000 miles away. I wonder: How many more times will I see them? More than my fingers? I help them load their luggage. Good to see you. It’s been great. Ten? Nine? Eight?
I tend to watch my wife longingly as she leaves rooms. Sometimes, I stand awhile and stare at closed doors.
I waved through the window at my daughter. Maybe, as she said, for the last time. She is so my daughter. So originally sad. Went back inside and picked her up. She’s getting so heavy. There will be a last time. I try to remember this when I’m holding her perfect little hand in parking lots. There will be a last time. How much longer will she need to kiss both my cheeks before she goes to sleep? There will be a last time. Nothing lasts. Each and every time is propped against the last time. The present is made of all gone things.
Our embrace was a big pile of trembling bones. Set her down. I have to go. I was more cautious in traffic that day. I was suspicious of men with hands in their pockets. Scanned the sky from time to time, keeping watch for errant meteors.
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73 comments:
Now that I am on the verge of tears... What a beautiful, poignant piece on the brevity of childhood and life. I will definitely be hugging my kiddos extra long and hard today.
Magnificient, this i get.
This was beautiful, and sad. I still kiss my Dad on the cheek before I go to bed when he comes to visit.
Fucking meteors.......
Good stuff.
The post, not Meteors.
-word.
That was beautiful.
She will always need to kiss your cheek. She will always need for you to pick her up and hold her.
Tears definately shed on keyboard this morning. Thought about a lot of "last" moments that I have already had with my kids and...just in life...thanks...
wish i'd read this before leaving for work this morning.
Bittersweet and filled with pretty, broken glass.
Nothing lasts forever. Everything lasts eventually, which is to say, everything is eventually seen, heard, tasted, experienced for the last time.
Don't let it bother you, I say. At the most extreme, we could wrap ourselves in caution and never do anything again. We will only have accomplished the acceleration of the last of everything in our lives.
I'm not, of course, suggesting that we should jump into the dragon's mouth. I'm just saying:
Let the limited supply of life increase, as economics teaches us, its value. Let the threat of "lasts" spur us to indulge and enjoy, not to abstain and avoid.
Hello, Black Hockey Jesus.
It's always nice to "stop and smell the roses" huh?
Great post. We always need to be reminded of the "last".
HAPPY TUESDAY!!
- Jennifer
that was positively nutritious. and delicious.
Someone once told me that for a baby shower gift, instead of a book to record your child's "firsts" there should be one to record the "lasts". The last time you COULD pick her up. The last time you changed a diaper. The last night with a binky. The last time he touched his cheek when he was scared because he didn't know how to say, "What was that, Mommy?" {SIGH} I try to treat every parting with those I love as though it might be the last. Then? No regrets.
Just incredible.
I think about these things way too often.
Very well done!!
From the mouths of children come the kernels of wisdom that we so long to hear, and dread of thinking about.
Great post BHJ.
She will need you in different ways. As a girl who lost her father way to young and way too fast, there is never enough kisses.
Now, if we can only figure how to make the last last.
I've never been so thankful to work from home as I am today. As soon as I finish crying, I am going to go hug them. I may even try to pick them up, if I throw my back out, it'll be worth it.
Children have wise souls. If we don't kill their souls trying to make them conform they can actually grow up to be wise adults.
Beautiful post!
I'm so glad you went back in.
Some of us are born with happy as our neutral; some in sad-neutral.
This pile of trembling bones is impressed. Nice post.
Frack. Now I'm all weepy because this is something I totally do. I FREAK out if I realize that my husband or kids left on an angry note, or didn't say goodbye properly even though it's "just a quick trip to the store!"
What if it was the LAST trip to the store???
And now I need to call someone I love...
Do you ever get tired of reading comments that just say, "Wow. You are awesome"? :)
Well...
Wow. You are awesome.
What a lucky girl, to have her daddy write about her like this. Beautiful.
Meteor showers are a lot meatier than vegetable showers. Just saying.
Awesome post. You are so right about the pageant of lasts.
Lately I've been thinking on making things right --or, at least, as right as they could possibly be-- with my extranged father.
The beginning of that line of thought was spurred by the absolute realization (not the flirty, occasional pondering) of lasts a handful of weeks ago.
"The present is made of all gone things" is one of the most gorgeous things I've heard in a while. You have a way, sometimes, of re-introducing me to parts of myself that I might otherwise flee if I came upon them on my own.
I should be embarrassed at my typo, but the dirty, dirrrrty neologist in me finds spelling 'estranged' with an x pretty fucking delightful.
Proofreading is for sissies.
Damn, I didn't really need to cry right now, but I am. Good dads are missed like crazy, and I'm missing mine right now.
One of my biggest fears is having a last moment with my kids or my husband. At some point we will part. Hopefully (I hope, I hope, I hope) me first. And I hope it's when I'm very old, and they are pretty old. But, it could happen any time. We have to suck all we can out of each moment.
beautiful, moving, poignant.
not to be morbid, but it's even worse when you know for certain it's going to be the last time.
a fine fine post thoroughly enjoyed by a lurker who was already feeling emotional this am.
Mmm, salty tears make warm slices of pumpkin bread so tasty.
Thanks for all your posts you always make me smile, today, through tears...
I remember the conversation with my mom friends about the last time we had to carry our kids into the house from the car...
Lovely post.
Aw, way to make me tear up. I think about this a LOT.
Your daughter is very lucky to have such a great Dad.
Beautiful post.
yes.
Wow...just, wow. You have a wonderful way with words, and I thank you for sharing them. And I love reading a blog that doesn't have a hidden agenda. Just honest words. Thank you.
Thank you, Black Hockey Jesus. I'm going to hug and kiss both my kids today when they get home.
I too think about lasts and try to squeeze just a little harder when I'm giving someone a hug so that they know I care. Beautiful post.
Thanks for the reminder!
No words to accompany those. You're a master, sir.
That rocks my socks.
And pisses me off at the same time because my daughter's biological father could give two shits about her.
My little girl told me one time that she wanted an extra big hug before she went to her cousins for a sleepover, "just in case" and I just about lost it.
I still let her go, but I was crazy the whole time she was gone.
Kids. They do stuff to you.
goddamn.
I cannot leave the girls without my ritual see you have a great time I love you!
I have bolted up three flights of stairs at the school to ensure the ritual is seen to rather than spend my day in the anxiety of what if that was the last time.
My friend's husband can be kind of a douchebag, but he never leaves the house without making things right - for this very reason. Too many lasts.
God, that was beautiful. And thankful.
Ominous and beautiful, BHJ.
Bastard. Now I've got to go kiss the kids goodnight one last time before bed.
Ack. You just made me curl into a little ball of guilt for all my impatient, hurried, poor parenting moments, but also cry at the beauty of it all.
You're good. Thanks.
omg, you just totally made me cry. i always wonder when i say goodbye to people if it will be THE goodbye.
I get pissed at my kid for not going to sleep, and then I remember stuff like this, that I won't always be able to hold them, one day they'll be too big, one day I'll be gone, etc. Yay for perspective.
and this is why I keep reading. I know my daughter is the same way, and I get this.
Very well written.
I am constantly think about mortality, will this hug be the last?? Will this phone call be the last? I don't trust men with hands in their pocket either ;)
Wow. That was fantastic. That's the kind of BHJ oeuvre I always come back for.
Anymommy,
I felt exactly the same way. I start out on days off planning to relax with J and L and end up shooing them to get the mounting list of shit done that I think needs to get done, when I KNOW they don't care if their bathroom sink is clean, they would rather read with their mom. It is so hard to slow down.
Happy Thanksgiving BHJ
May you and your Family have a Super Supper!!
God Bless!!!!
Love,
J
Where has this blog been my whole life? I am an instant fan; Black Jesus spreads the verbal wealth!
Thank you All and Namaste....
M=
I spend way too many afternoons waiting and longing for the kids' bedtime. Thanks for giving me some perspective! Great post.
Beautiful, poignant. This touched me. It's a reminder that I probably need.
I often think this when looking at my kids too. As Robert Frost once wrote,
'Nothing Gold Can Stay' . Its sad.
That was the most awesome post I've ever read on a blog. Kudos to your ability to get down to the heart of things, honestly and succinctly.
Best,
Nana
www.nanadiaries.com
Sad. I want to hear more about Skip.
Love,
Andrea
I scan the skies as well ... wondering just how challenging it will be to protect them as they drift further and further away.
New to your blog, absolutely love it. Keep up the good work. I don't have kid's but I do have a Dad. I think that qualifies me to follow this blog...:)
BHJ, I just fell into your site as a link from another site that linked into my site. I'm sure glad I did.
I'm in Iraq for a year, and my 8-year-old daughter is waiting for her Daddy to come home for a couple of weeks at Christmas.
Imagine what kinds of "lasts" I try to keep her from considering each time I fly back to wars. Like January 4, 2009, for example.
Can't add much to what already has been said but thank you for a wonderfully written piece. Keep up the good work.
When I am older, I will still have this post saved on my computer and I will be a better person every time I read it.
I hate this reality.
Ok, this makes me want to run and get my child! Waaaaaaaaaaa. Beautiful!
Came from Kellan's and oh my goodness...
Outstanding and this brought me to tears. I don't remember my Dad. I was 4 1/2 when he waved to me to go and fly a routine flight. I had no idea he would never come back.
When I started leaving my son at day care years ago, that thought never left my mind. Today I still wave with "I love you" fingers sign as he drives off to enjoy his life.
Absolutely wonderful post and by the way...she will always always kiss your cheeks!
I was directed to swing by your blog. I can see why now. This is what it's like in the beginning. I remember it so fondly. I just wrote on learning to deal with an adult daughter. No matter the age, they steal your heart and never, ever give it back. No one warns you this little piece of you will hold you hostage for the rest of your life. I have to admit, I'm a willing prisoner to the love of my child. Thanks for sharing! (Hugs)Indigo
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