I just finished watching Field of Dreams for what could be the 100th time. Every time I watch Ray Kinsella realize why the voice told him to build the field and finally play catch with his father, I break down and cry. I cry harder each time. I think it's because I'm getting older and the power of that scene really gets to me now. I'm 34 years old. I lost my mother to cancer when I was 17. I always wonder what I would say to her when I watch that seen. I am always afraid of what she might say to me. When my mother was alive I was constantly afraid of disappointing or upsetting her. Over the years when I talk about her, I make it sound like I was terrified of her. Maybe when I was a little boy I was terrified, but as I got older and I saw the pride she had in me, the thing that scared me the most was the idea that I might give her a reason to be ashamed of me. In the years since she passed away, I've missed her every time I accomplished something. However, I've missed her more in the times that I've really made a mess of things. Those times when I needed a hug and swift kick in the ass. I've lived half my life without her and I've missed her everyday. A friend of mine once told me that if I was able to put the past behind and not worry about what I don't have and be happy with what I do then I would be complete. I think I may finally be there.
I usually dread the month of November. My mom died on November 6, 1993. Each year October creeps along and the smells of fall and the impending bleakness of winter get stronger and November lurks in the shadows bringing the emotions of this anniversary with it. For the first time since 1993, I am not dreading the coming of November and the cold November rain, because November will take a new meaning for me this year and forever. My wife Karissa and I are expecting our first child, a baby boy, on November 12. I am excited, happy, terrified, and nervous all at the same time and my life has never been better.
Many of my friends who have children have given me advice and have been telling what to expect. I don't know if they are right. I'll tell you what I think though. When my son is born and the nurse puts him in my arms for the first time, I'm going to cry. I'm going to cry and smile and laugh. Then I'm going to thank God for blessing me with Karissa, who is the love of my life and my best friend. I'm going to thank God for blessing me with my newborn son Brayden. I hope as he grows up that I am capable of showing him that I love him unconditionally even with my tendency to be less than patient. I hope I am capable of being half the man my father is because if I am then I'll be twice as good as most. I know I'll wish my mom was there. I really think that she would have liked being a grandma even if she didn't let anyone call her that. I think it would be nice to be able to introduce Brayden to her on a softball field like in Field of Dreams.
I know I usually only write about meaningless drivel. Maybe I do that because it's easier. I said earlier that a friend of mine told me that I'd be better off when I could let go of regret. She was right. It's like Al Pacino said in The Devil's Advocate, "Guilt is like a bag of f@%king bricks. All you gotta do is put it down." I think my shoulders will feel a lot better with my son sitting on them than they have carrying those bricks.
Well if you are still reading this then you obviously have as much time on your hands as I do and if that's the case then you have my sympathies.
As always bro. :-)))
ReplyDelete