family
The Day I Was Done and Gave My Daughters Away.
I remember all the feelings I had as we stood at the back of the runner. Breathe I told myself. Soak in every moment, every step. Don’t be in a hurry. It will go so fast and you won’t have another chance like this with her. It was hard to believe it had already come to this.
Several months later as we stood atop the flight of outdoor stairs I had the same rush of feelings tearing at me as before. Breathe I ordered myself again. Soak in every moment, every step. Don’t trip and don’t miss the smallest detail of this walk. I knew it was going to pass by so quickly and I felt like I had no time to get my feet under me.
I was ready for this and yet, completely unprepared for this, all at the same time. So many memories and thoughts running through my head as I walked down that aisle and stairway. So many things I wanted to say. So many things there was no time to say. In the blink of an eye it would be over and everything will have changed forever. Nothing would ever be like it was before.
As a new father I had no idea what to expect. I really had no clue. I had no idea that the long nights would really be LONG. I knew nothing of being mature and consistent as the dad. I had no idea how much fun my kids could be, and what memories we would make together throughout all their childhood years. I didn’t have much confidence in myself about being a good dad at all. I was scared at times. Not scared of the unknown, but scared about myself and what I was capable of as their father.
I didn’t know how deeply I would love my children. How could I until the little buggers were filling up the house? I was in way over my head, but was loving being their dad. No other man had the inside track that I had to these wonderful people. No other man would have them calling for him to come and tuck them into bed at night. No other man would hug them as dad, or kiss them as dad, or whatever them as dad. I got all of that. It was mine. I was Daddy.
I watched them grow, and mature. I watched them stumble, fall, skin their knees both literally and figuratively. I watched them grow in their faith and commitment. I watched them struggle as they wrestled with who they are as people. I watched, and watched, and watched.
Marm and I were so vigilant about being present with the kids. “Don’t miss the time as it passes”, was our mantra. We took to heart the sage old advice of those who had gone before us.
“Pay attention! The time passes so quickly.”
We worked hard at being there for the kids. They were an inseparable part of our family fabric and were woven deeply into its tapestry.
So how did it come to this already? How in the world did I get here? I paid attention. I was involved. I was there. I watched and participated. How did it come to this so soon?
In a mere few minutes my daughters would no longer be just mine. Their hearts had been given to other men. They were pledging their entire lives to these men, and I watched it happen, or in my case, helped in the process.
I was being asked, “Who gives this woman…?” and I was simply to say, “Her Mother and I.” That’s it? A whole life time together and in one simple statement of release she is gone from me forever.
I know it was what we wanted for them. What we prayed about and prepared for, for them. It was the right thing for them. The best thing for them. The blessed thing for them. There was no denying it, nor would I try. I wanted this for them all along. It was just…just… just that it happened right under my nose when I wasn’t looking. Well, maybe I was looking, but just wasn’t prepared for how I would feel on those two days when I was done and gave my daughters away.
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Too Pooped to Party
Back when Marm and I were in college and were “just being friends” we discussed things from A to Z. It never mattered how important or frivolous the topic. We loved to be together and spent hours talking to each other. She was the best friend I ever had and I simply couldn’t wait to see her each day.
One day while we were talking she asked me, “How many kids do you want to have when you get married?” I told her, ” I want a large family. Six is about right. How many kids do you want to have when you get married?”
“I want a large family too,” was her reply.
This didn’t surprize me since I already knew how much she loved children. I remember another box being checked off in my head in regard this wonderful woman. I was beginning to think she might be the one, but wasn’t willing to admit it to myself yet. I was already falling in love with her at this point.
Obviously we did get married and we did have that large family. Five wonderful children: Annie, Aaron, Abbey, Amber, and Amy. They are our filled quiver, our “handful”. Our house was full. Full of love. Full of memories being made. Full of surprises. Full of noise. Full of bedtime routines. Full of sleepless nights. Full of sick kids at times. Plainly put, it was packed full of life.
I remember how Marm and I would collapse onto our bed after an unusually hectic day and look at each other with that dazed “deer in the headlights” look. I asked her once at such a time, “Back when you asked me how many kids I wanted to have, did you ever envision all of this?”
“Nope, never did!” was all she said as she just sat there and stared. This was that rare quiet moment of the day that was filled with absolutely nothing, and we were too exhausted to actually enjoy it.
Here we were alone together. No kids clambering for something. No one yelling. No one doing something sneaky. No cries for water, another story, or another prayer over them. It was our time and whoop-tie-do.
Exhaustion warps reality. I remember how we would interact through the day. Short comments, my huffing and puffing at requests for needed help, her frustration in not wanting to have to deal with one more thing. It was so easy to be irritable. Impatience was always around the next corner. Miscommunication was inevitable and caused its own mess. Where were the days of ease when all I wanted was to see her as soon as possible; when being with her was enough and talking with her was the highlight of my day?
It was so easy to lose sight of her, of us, and the dream we had back then. Here we sat, a crumpled couple on the bed of our life. A heap of folk beaten down by the routine, whooped up on by the fulness we created. Then I would stop and see her again and see something at that moment I never told anyone, maybe not even her. Here was the lady I chose, the love of my life, and she said, “Yes”. She was more beautiful to me than ever as she sat there with her hair a bit ruffled, her clothes showing signs of the day’s activities, looking tired and worn out. I fell in love with her all over again and silently vowed to be less irritable and impatient. I told myself I wouldn’t huff and puff anymore when she needed help. I would listen better and communicate clearly.
As the years passed and our adventure unfolded I would break all of these vows numerous times, but I’ve never stopped trying to keep them no matter how impossible it seemed.
Marm is and always will be my dream come true. And our family? They are now and always have been our dream come true. We aren’t as exhausted as in the past and it’s easier now to remember who we are together. Exhaustion brings an altered sense of reality about life while one is in the midst of it. I remember our times of being “too pooped to party” and the woman I shared it with, both then and now. We are living our dream together, and I am still head-over-heels in love with her.
Curls & Capes 