Skinny Little Frog refuses to eat flies because he is sure he won’t like them. And he has an even bigger problem than that to solve. Will he hide under his lily pad, or will he find courage in his little heart to try?
Family ties are the ties that bind us to the past. And give us hope for the future. They are also the ties that take the greatest beating in life. Often frayed, dirty, and imperfectly woven, they still mold us; shape us in ways that are sometimes beyond understanding.
My own upbringing, as yours, might have been, was messy and less than perfect. It was often even unpredictable. But still, there was love.
I remember the day I decided I needed to tell my dad I loved him and give him a hug… before I got so old that it wouldn’t be appropriate. I must have been about 10 years old. I told my mom what I was going to do. Her reaction was one of interest and surprise. She thought it was a good idea, and asked me how I was going to pull it off.
My Dad and Me, in our family home which he and I Slowly renovated together my whole life. Taken not long before he passed away of cancer, when he was just 46 years old.
I didn’t have the slightest idea. He was usually tired and sometimes grouchy from working a night shift that didn’t leave much time for casual family conversation, so things were going to be complicated. I told my mom that I was going to do it the very next day before I changed my mind, and that I needed to know what she thought would be the best time. She thought a minute and suggested that he was usually in a good mood when she woke him up with a hot cup of coffee at 8 PM.
The next evening, promptly at 8:15, I knocked on the bedroom door. I heard him say “What?” from behind the closed door. I opened the door and walked in. Without a word, I came and stood next to the bed. He looked up and asked again “What?”
I looked him right in the eyes (for what seemed like the first time in my life), and said “Dad… I love you.” I stared for just a second or two more, bent over, and kissed him right on his bald, salty forehead. Standing up, I paused, looked at him one more time (just in case he was going to say something) and then walked out.
As I went through the door, I heard him ask my mother “What in hell was THAT all about?” Through the now open door, I heard her tell him that I had told her what I was going to do, but that she hadn’t said anything, since she wanted it to be a surprise. I heard him grunt “Huh”. And then she told him that he needed to tell his son and his two daughters that he loved them too. I remember him saying something like “Oh, good Lord! They already know THAT! I’m their DAD for God’s sake!”
That’s the way it was. Some things were true by definition. But I was still pleased with myself that I had gone the extra mile. It was good that he could do more than just HOPE I loved him because I was his son.
He passed away from lung and brain cancer 15 years later, at the age of 47.
So I guess I’ll leave you, my readers with this simple advice; if there is someone in your life that needs to hear you say “I love you”, please, please tell them, no matter how big of a risk it seems to be. Before it’s too late. To this day, I’m glad I did.
When it comes to building stronger, more mentally and emotionally resilient children, no one can do that better than their parents. When a child is mentally healthy, he or she is more likely to hit important developmental milestones, build healthier social skills, and even perform better at school. With my own children, I always tried to be there with and for them and build relationships where we could talk about anything, any time.
What do YOU think? What is your best memory of talking to an adult you looked up to as a child? Who, if anyone, in your past do you wish you had been able to spend more time with? What would you say or do with them now if you had even half a chance?
If you are new to the idea of talking to your child, I really ‘The Conversation Project’, resource packet website.
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Family ties are the ties that bind us to the past. And give us hope for the future. They are also the ties that take the greatest beating in life. Often frayed, dirty, and imperfectly woven, they still mold us; shape us in ways that are sometimes beyond understanding.
It was haying time and the horses were pulling the empty hay wagon up the driveway and back out into the field. As we passed the house, I jumped off and ran up the back steps, through the rickety screen door, and into the old country kitchen.
Like all parents, my wife Mary Anne, and I worried about our children. We worried that they weren’t eating well. Juli especially was skinny and often sick.
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