Shoved to Them
I spent the morning cleaning out the box which held my wedding stuff, my children’s First Communion regalia, and other family mementos and transferring them to the inherited trunk. After a short while, the children began to congregate in my room and watch as I sorted through our family’s history. It wasn’t long before they began to look through our treasures on their own.
My 6 year old (girl) found my parents’ wedding album. It had passed on to me when they were divorced 14 years ago and neither one wanted it. I was a new bride then, and wrapped it up in tissue paper and put it away next to my own wedding gown. I had forgotten that it was in the box until it was unwrapped by my own romantic daughter.
#4 grabbed up her discovery and clambered up onto my bed where #3 (age 9) joined her. They looked with curiosity at the pictures of relatives long dead, and young faces which have grown old. I listened to them only peripherally until they suddenly grew silent.
“Is that the man who’s supposed to be our grandpa?” my sweet daughter asked.
“I think so,” her brother answered her, “only he doesn’t want to be.”
“Doesn’t he love us?” Puzzled the child who is loved by everyone who has ever met her.
“No. He doesn’t”
“He doesn’t? How do you know?”
My son thought for a moment, now with my full attention. “Have you ever met him?” He asked her softly. “Have you ever seen him? Love means being there. It’s being there, and where is he? That’s how I know.”
He’s right. Love means being there. It means you never stop trying, never stop reaching out, never stop hoping.
Dad, they miss you, even if it is only the idea of you. I pray someday there will come a time when you miss them, too. We love you. How do you know? We’re still here. Waiting….
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