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OK, batten down the hatches, sailors. Those of you, like me, who have an involuntary gag response to sappy, Hallmark sentiments should probably turn back now. Itâs about to get ugly. 
This is probably something more suited to the realm of blogs (if I kept one), but, with so many topics right now about distant dads, busted up friendships, and strained relationships, I think it fits. I find myself wanting to go ahead and post these thoughts for mass consumption. Thereâs an important message here.
I just got back from a funeral for an old friend tonight. Such a tragic situation and one from which Iâm bound to learn a lesson, I think.
Tony and I had been best buddies when we were just ten or eleven years old--hanging out at school, sleeping over at one anotherâs homes, talking on the phone for hours, the whole deal. His little sister was my first âgirlfriendâ in that silly, brief, looking-at-each-other-across-the-cafeteria kind of way. Writing âdo you love me? check yes or noâ notes. You get the picture. As years passed and we ended up in separate classes, we grew apart and didnât really have anything much in common anymore. Still friendly, just not good friends. A normal part of growing up, I think--graduating, moving away, and developing lives and careers and other grown up things.
Fast forward several years to sometime last month when I found that the cute, shy new student in one of my high-school equivalency classes is Tonyâs niece (imagine how old I felt at that moment!. We spoke about it a bit and I discovered that, as was the case for me, the path of Tonyâs life had led him back to our hometown after years away as well. The thought occurred to me that I should try to call him sometime and catch up. And then that thought promptly left my head.
You see where this is going, right?
Found out Tuesday morning at work that heâd been killed in a terrible accident at his home over the weekend, leaving behind his wife and two daughters, eleven and three. After going by the family visitation last night, I was dreading the funeral today; I knew Iâd see those devastated little girls. This is a man who was just born to be a daddy, you know? Always spending time with everyone elseâs kids--playing, talking, whatever. Shy but with big integrity and a real dedication to his family and his word. And now heâs gone at the tragically young age of 36; moreover, his youngest daughter probably wonât even remember him.
Iâm not looking for sympathy, so no need to offer it, really. Tony and I hadnât even seen one another in well over a decade (which, somehow, doesnât seem like as long a period as it used to) and hadnât been close in much longer than that. I certainly shed my share (and more) of tears, but any loss that I might be feeling pales in comparison to that of his family, friends, and coworkers. This post isnât about my sadness.
The message Iâm trying to convey with this tragic tale is to communicate with the people in your life. At the beginning of this year, I resolved to myself to do a better job of keeping up my friendships and making time to invest in other peopleâsomething at which Iâve never excelled, let me say. (Itâs tougher for guys a lot of times, anyway, donât you think?) And while Iâve made a few phone calls and kept up with e-mails and paper correspondence a bit better, Iâve not really made wholesale changes in my patterns. And now itâs just too damned late in this case, you know?
So hey, if you can stand some unsolicited advice, why not go ahead, take the risk, and just say it, you know? If not in words, at least though action and effort try to connect with the good people in your lifeâthose who mean something to you. Call up your buddy and offer to buy him a beer and catch up some night. Tell your significant other that youâre glad to be sharing your life with her/him. Tell your dad that you love him, even if heâs too emotionally frozen to be able to respond. I donât think youâll regret it.
*end greeting card mode*
This is probably something more suited to the realm of blogs (if I kept one), but, with so many topics right now about distant dads, busted up friendships, and strained relationships, I think it fits. I find myself wanting to go ahead and post these thoughts for mass consumption. Thereâs an important message here.
I just got back from a funeral for an old friend tonight. Such a tragic situation and one from which Iâm bound to learn a lesson, I think.
Tony and I had been best buddies when we were just ten or eleven years old--hanging out at school, sleeping over at one anotherâs homes, talking on the phone for hours, the whole deal. His little sister was my first âgirlfriendâ in that silly, brief, looking-at-each-other-across-the-cafeteria kind of way. Writing âdo you love me? check yes or noâ notes. You get the picture. As years passed and we ended up in separate classes, we grew apart and didnât really have anything much in common anymore. Still friendly, just not good friends. A normal part of growing up, I think--graduating, moving away, and developing lives and careers and other grown up things.
Fast forward several years to sometime last month when I found that the cute, shy new student in one of my high-school equivalency classes is Tonyâs niece (imagine how old I felt at that moment!
. We spoke about it a bit and I discovered that, as was the case for me, the path of Tonyâs life had led him back to our hometown after years away as well. The thought occurred to me that I should try to call him sometime and catch up. And then that thought promptly left my head.You see where this is going, right?
Found out Tuesday morning at work that heâd been killed in a terrible accident at his home over the weekend, leaving behind his wife and two daughters, eleven and three. After going by the family visitation last night, I was dreading the funeral today; I knew Iâd see those devastated little girls. This is a man who was just born to be a daddy, you know? Always spending time with everyone elseâs kids--playing, talking, whatever. Shy but with big integrity and a real dedication to his family and his word. And now heâs gone at the tragically young age of 36; moreover, his youngest daughter probably wonât even remember him.
Iâm not looking for sympathy, so no need to offer it, really. Tony and I hadnât even seen one another in well over a decade (which, somehow, doesnât seem like as long a period as it used to) and hadnât been close in much longer than that. I certainly shed my share (and more) of tears, but any loss that I might be feeling pales in comparison to that of his family, friends, and coworkers. This post isnât about my sadness.
The message Iâm trying to convey with this tragic tale is to communicate with the people in your life. At the beginning of this year, I resolved to myself to do a better job of keeping up my friendships and making time to invest in other peopleâsomething at which Iâve never excelled, let me say. (Itâs tougher for guys a lot of times, anyway, donât you think?) And while Iâve made a few phone calls and kept up with e-mails and paper correspondence a bit better, Iâve not really made wholesale changes in my patterns. And now itâs just too damned late in this case, you know?
So hey, if you can stand some unsolicited advice, why not go ahead, take the risk, and just say it, you know? If not in words, at least though action and effort try to connect with the good people in your lifeâthose who mean something to you. Call up your buddy and offer to buy him a beer and catch up some night. Tell your significant other that youâre glad to be sharing your life with her/him. Tell your dad that you love him, even if heâs too emotionally frozen to be able to respond. I donât think youâll regret it.
*end greeting card mode*
