I was so happy and proud for my sons on the days they started Kindergarten. I could feel them growing up as they boarded the school bus, their hands on the rail and their superhero backpacks hanging low. I’m sure my grin was plenty goofy as I watched them go.
My older son was absolutely thrilled to get to ride the bus. He had watched his stepbrother do it for years and was just sure it must be totally awesome and a real sign of being big. When I came home that afternoon, he chattered for a long time about the bus ride, telling me every detail. When I asked him how school was, he said it was okay and told me more stories about the bus ride.
His younger brother was unsure and anxious when his turn came, but he did fine because his bigger brother was there to show him the ropes. When I came home from work that day, he had no stories to tell. When I pried a little, he admitted that he didn’t particularly enjoy the bus ride and wasn’t excited about school. I think that all the new stimulation overwhelmed the poor boy. He slowly adjusted and ended up doing fine.
I was excited to be there for every new adventure, whether happy or challenging, as my boys grew up. I cheered on every rite of passage, unlike their mom who struggled with seeing our sons’ littleness fade and every era end.
My sons are 15 and 17 now, a sophomore and a senior in high school. My older boy has become a little more interested in spending time with his friends than with his family. My younger boy, who is the solitary sort, pursues some deep interests that he has developed.
As a parent, the finish line is finally coming into view for me. My sons are starting to form identities separate from their family and to think about what kinds of lives they want to live on their own. These are natural passages.
But now it’s my turn to struggle. I’m still excited for their adventures to come, but very sad that more and more of them will happen without me in the audience.
During the summer, my sons live one week with their mom and the next with me. They’ve needed less and less direct care over the years, but this year it’s been clear that they are able to stand almost entirely on their own. This was proved by how well they took care of all of us for a couple weeks while I was laid up after surgery. And where in past years they were happy to make day trips with me or just run up to the Dairy Queen for a sundae, this summer what they really wanted to do was play games online with their friends. (Side note: Do kids actually go see their friends anymore? My older boy doesn’t even have his driver’s license yet. He says, “Why do I need it? All my friends are on Skype.”)
Can I just admit that it was a little bit of a desperation move on my part when I took vacation the week before school started and booked a couple days away for us? The school year’s grind would soon be upon us, and I wanted a couple of distraction-free days to just hang out with my sons. So we rented a cottage in beautiful Brown County and spent a day exploring the art galleries and shops in Nashville and a day hiking through the state park to take in its stunning views.
I had a good enough time. I think my sons did, too. But both of them were obviously glad to come back home. One of them even told me he especially enjoyed his time at home that week as he could just relax with his friends.
And so it’s time for me to start to let go. I know my sons still value time with me and in my home for the familiarity and security they provide. I know they still need me to guide and coach them. But these things serve more as a launching pad now, a safe place for them to figure themselves out and build their futures. But more and more now I find myself hanging on their every word, even as they chatter on about a video game they just played, wanting to feel like I’m a part of their lives as I was before.
After the divorce, fatherhood brought other unexpected challenges. Read about it here.