Just One Day

If I could spend one day with anyone, living or dead, I’d choose to spend it with my father, who passed away shortly after my 15th birthday.   As I write this, at 66 years old, that loss was over 50 years ago.   His passing was the first defining moment of my life, and shaped me in a myriad of ways, through early adulthood, marriage, my career, and of course, when I became a father myself.  I'm blessed to have cherished memories and feelings of being loved.  I remember big events and holidays, and many moments from routine days, and I treasure them all.   But what I really wish is to have known my father more intimately, and as an adult.  What were his dreams and aspirations, his greatest joys and disappointments?  What were his biggest decisions, and how did he think through them?   Did he have regrets?  Who would he say influenced him the most, and why?  What motivated him?  What did he regard as his defining moments?  My list of questions goes on. 

Beyond the sadness of not really knowing my dad, two things strike me.  One is that not knowing a parent in the ways I never knew my dad is not unique to me, and in fact, seems quite common, even for people who are blessed to have their parents through most of their lives.   Is it because of the ‘busy-ness’ of our day-to-day lives that we don’t take the time to learn these things from our parents and grandparents?  When there’s so much to do, and so many places to be,  when is the time right to have those conversations?   I suppose at some level it’s easy to think we’ll make the time later, but never do.  

And second is the realization that when I'm gone,  I don't want my own children to say they didn't know me, or to wish they could have known me better.  So now, with a new found sense of urgency, it seems that there’s so much to share, and though I wonder if what I have to say will be of interest to my children,  I also know in my heart that it absolutely will be, and if not now, then later, and possibly over and over again, as they change, over time.  

So, with those thoughts in mind, I begin Passing the Baton, which is intended to impart much of who I am, for my children to read and reflect on at their own pace, and in their own time.   The right time may not be now, so I’ll write these things down, for them to read whenever they’re ready.