From Forever to Finity: A Paradigm Shift
When we become parents, yet can remember being parented
My forties have changed me in myriad ways, precipitating a complete shift in my way of thinking. This is notably evident in my realization that I am not invincible, and sticking around for a while is going to require making the requisite changes that come with middle age. It’s time for a shift in diet, and some appointment scheduling is necessary in order to make sure that various systems of the body are in tiptop shape. While this segment of the tweaks in thinking is front and center, another has been fermenting quietly behind the scenes, emerging more loudly than before after something my four-year-old daughter said last night, not for the first time, but her sentence has played in my mind over and over again, even keeping me awake for at least an hour last night.
As a child, I was enveloped in the idea that my parents would be around forever. I would continue aging like everyone else, and so would they. The idea of an endpoint didn’t really cross my mind for the first ten years of my life, even as older family members began to pass away. Unlike a good number of friends and co-workers, if I call either of my parents in their respective homes, the phone is answered- or at least I get a call back in a short amount of time.
With age came the knowledge that my parents likely would not outlive me, just like other beliefs rooted in juvenility began to fall away. My pre-adolescent realization that I would have to navigate the later years of my life without those who brought me into the world was a standalone principle until just recently when it became apparent that the same would hold true to, well…me.
Last night, when my daughter cried out for Mommy and Daddy in the waning moments of consciousness before falling asleep, she asked for her routine hug and a kiss. As I began to back away, she reached for my hand, grasped onto it with a strength which is powerful for her age and size, as she said:
“Daddy, I wanna keep you forever.”
As would be expected, I responded with what came to my mind, and I’m sure it would come to the mind of any normal-thinking parent capable of empathy and love.
“Of course you can. I’ll always be here.”
As those words floated through the air, she rolled to the side, my hand still within her grasp, and closed her eyes. I know that I won’t be around forever, and that hurts, not for the idea of self-preservation, but rather that she won’t get her wish of keeping me forever. It’s one of those aspects of fatherhood that has blindsided me, one that I simply don’t have an answer for just yet. The only answer I do have is to be here for as long as I can.
As children, we believe many things. A good number of them are sloughed off as we reach adulthood, yet some still remain. One that has stayed in the front of my mind is that I must do everything in my power to make this world a better place, so that even the most infinitesimal change for good can be left after I am gone. Also, I want to do everything in my power so that my daughter can have a good life- one in which she feels safe and protected with a good moral compass and strong faith. While I may not be able to do this forever, the awareness that I must do everything in my power to be strong, present, and simply there over the rest of my life flashing before my eyes, and I am ready to do whatever it takes to ensure that this takes place. That would be the best legacy that I can leave behind.