Tomorrow morning, I leave to return to Germany for one month. After that, I go to Africa for 12 months.
Then, I'll be able to return to you. Then, I'll be able to hold you again. Then, I'll be able to hear your silliness. Then, I'll be able to read to you. Then, I'll be able to go to church with you. Then, I'll get to see the smile on your face. Then, I'll get to comfort you when you're sad.
What causes me the most anxiety and what brings the most tears to my eyes is the idea that you might feel like I've abandoned you. Or, that I've forgotten about you. Or, that I don't love you.
Or that you might forget me. Please don't forget me.
I love you.
Of course I love you.
The trouble with big transitions like this is that you can't help but have seemingly irration bouts of self-criticism. I use criticism because it's not the same as introspection. Introspection is productive, but right now I'm having a flood of self-disappointment. It's the thought and idea that perhaps if I had been 100 percent a better father that I wouldn't feel as terrible as I do leaving you.
Maybe if I had spent more time with you and your sisters I wouldn't miss you as much as I know I will. Maybe if I had spent more time tickling you instead of staying at work late I wouldn't have this heavy knot on top of my heart. Maybe if I had given up playing video games and taken you swimming more often you wouldn't have cried last night about losing me for a year.
It's not all dispair. There are two comforts which brings me confidence that all will be well when I return. 1. I love your momma and I know that she'll do a great job watching you, taking care of you, and helping you resolve issues. 2. The gospel of Jesus Christ and the eternal covenants I made with him.
Our family is eternal, and one year away is a drop in the bucket of infinity. I trust that God knows me and you and our family. And, I know that he loves us each individually with a greatness that can't be comprehended.
Nonetheless, when I think about tomorrow, when you and your mom and your sisters drop me off, I won't be able to deal with your sadness. I will weep at the loss of not being with you. I fear being forgotten. It's not a rational fear, but I fear it.
There are going to be some sleepless nights. I can already imagine your tears and my tears. But, you can trust that I'm going to do everything possible to stay in your life from the other side of the world. Unfortunately, I don't think the heavy heart and the yearning to be home goes away. Everyone has told me that it gets easier, and their recommendation is to stay busy and active. Essentially, they're telling me that I need to do things to forget you -- at least temporarily. It's a Catch-22. What I fear is forgetting the feeling of your cheek against my cheek, and yet, the only remedy to easing my shallow breaths and tension is to remove you from my mind. It's a kind of tragedy.
I'm mindful that much better men than I have accomplished more meaningful things under tougher circumstances -- but you are my son, not theirs. And, while I may not be saving the world, I hope that one day you'll understand that I'm fulfilling my duty the best way I know how. And, that I made a commitment to our nation -- a solemn oath to go and do things others will not.
Lastly, I ask that you rise up to this occasion to help protect your sisters and give help to your momma where needed. They'll need you to be the wonderful, joyful, cheerful big brother/son that I know you can be.
Remember, no matter what, I love you. Forever.
I hope it's ok to comment on this Pete. Wow. I don't know how I would deal with the separation you're experiencing. Thanks for sharing this. For what it's worth you inspire me to be a better dad.
ReplyDeleteThank you for serving our country and thanks for your example.
Bro, thanks for the comment and support. On FB, your wifey makes look like a rock-star of a dad -- and I'm sure you are!
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