I experienced a bittersweet moment recently, one that I haven't been able to shake since. My youngest daughter Natalie, who just turned 6 months, was sitting and playing in her excersaucer when I knelt down to play with her. She was slightly turned away from me but when she heard the noise, she turned to see what it was. My face was about 2 feet away from hers. There was a clearly noticeable moment of image processing taking part in her head, and then a huge smile swept across her face. It was as if she was saying "Hey! I know you! You're Daddy!" Inside, I was the happiest I've been in years. It was exactly the kind of grounding moment I needed, exactly when I most needed it.
Later on that evening, when the rest of the house was dark and quiet, in my usual fashion I stayed up late. I happened to be reading when it suddenly hit me... That moment was the last of its kind that I will ever experience as a father. The realization brought tears to my eyes, and an all too familiar sadness back to my heart.
I know there's a whole book of 'Firsts', both pleasant and unpleasant, waiting to be encountered between my kids and I. I know that. But of all the moments I've shared so far with my three daughters, these 'first identification' moments are amongst the most special to me. With all the stress and assorted crap I wade through everyday, they're like touchstones, and I can clearly remember each one. It’s sad to realize that they won’t happen again.
No comments:
Post a Comment