My extended family has some stories. Not all of them are the funny, light hearted things you might want to share with strangers at parties to break the ice. They are the sorts of things we don’t talk about. Not with each other let alone with the public. There were choices made that could have been avoided. Mistakes that can’t be undone. My wife and I didn’t name our son a name we had originally picked out because we found out about how ruthless a specific family member had been two or three generations earlier.
I know who I want to be as a husband, father, friend, and family member. I want to be the everything those stories aren’t. I want to be the loving and accepting person my dad is today. I want to be the tech savvy guy that in his 70s is using a smartphone (or the future equivalent) like my grandpa is today. I want my son to be able to ask me anything and know that I will always love him. No matter what he does, or says or who he chooses to love.
I saw this video of a poem preformed by Patrick Roche several months ago and have been wanting to share it on my blog for a long time. I’ve struggled to find the words to attach to it on my blog, but feel as if I’ve found them today. Watch this, then watch it again. Let the words sink in and ponder it for a few minutes before you keep reading.
I’m afraid of not measuring up to the ideal I have in my head of who I want to be. Even though I see my son without distraction more often than many parents do, I’m still afraid of not spending enough time with him. Meaningful time with my son when he is little and still in my house is something I’ll never get a chance to have again once he grows up.
I want to be the one my family can always count on. I want to be the one who is calm and cool when I need to be. I want to be the perfect dad for my kid, but I’m afraid I am not. Nor will I ever be. I’m a great dad, I just think I could be better.
