And the cat’s in the cradle and the silver spoon
Little boy blue and the man in the moon
When you comin’ home Dad?
I don’t know when, but we’ll get together then son
You know we’ll have a good time then

This song has always brought a lump to my throat, no matter when in my life I have heard it (and yes, I prefer the Ugly Kid Joe version, thanks).    It’s not that I had a bad father when growing up — I had a great father.    But now — I have a whole new perspective.

I worry all the time about how good of parent I am being…or not.   Am I being a good Daddy?   Am I spending enough time with him, teaching him, playing with him, showing him enough love and happiness and direction and acceptance?   And more importantly — does he think so?   I know I’m not the absent father of the above song but…in this my insecurities run deep.

Sometimes…sometimes the very act of being apart from him completely shreds my heart into little flaps of pain blowing in the breeze, even when it’s a necessary or justified reason.    I go to work every day, work hard, sometimes long days, because the better job I have, the higher I can get, the better I can do — the more I can provide and give him a good, happy, warm, and safe life.    Of course, there’s a balance — there’s a limit to how much money and so forth can give that nothing but love, caring, and time can fill.     So where do I strike it?   I struggle with that daily.    Ideally, all we need is love.   Realistically, we need so much more than only that.

The way he runs to me when I come home, arms outstretched, huge grin on his face, is at the same time both mind-blowingly wonderful and heart-wrenchingly awful because as good as it feels to have his love and acceptance and desire to see his daddy and to get his hugs and play time, it rips at me to think about what he wonders when I’m not there.   Does he get upset that I’m gone?    Kids breed on familiarity and security – do I wreak his world a tiny bit every time I step out that door and drive away?

Keston, Keston — what shall we do with your daddy who sits here with tears in his eyes and a lump in his throat, considering all the decisions that must be made and things that must be done, both with you and without you, and how to best place my love, devotion, and committment to your well-being such that you will grow up and think, “My dad?   Yeah.   He really loved me.”

Whatever happens, whatever we each must do to make our way in this sometimes confusing and conflicted world, no matter how many times I can and will screw up and not do things right, please always understand that I did the absolute best, to the ends of my very existence, to try to be the best for you.    Because I love you, my son, more than my feeble mind and body can ever show.

– Daddy