When you have children you open a door to your heart that cannot ever be closed. I’ve seen some really cool methods of handling parental splits this season, looks like it can actually be achieved. Mine was not a split that breeds compromise, in truth the same can be said of the marriage. I miss my children terribly and am devastated that my influence on their lives is measured solely in commercial terms.
I realised today how odd it sounds to talk of an annual hours visit with my daughter. That’s the problem when unbalanced parenting, it allows the wrong to overcome the right. I’ve always maintained that I will never engage my children in adult emotions, they are children for a reason. My children know that I love them and that I miss them but I’ve never told them how much it hurts not to see them or be involved in their lives. For me that is Dad’s role, we are the rocks the stable ones that are always there, it’s just the job.
To my children our relationship is normal, the occasional call or message and the potential of an annual visit. They don’t see anything strange in this, it is what they know and it is not for me to burden their lives with adult complications. The conversation today and the sight of better managed situations made me think that I was wrong. I considered that somewhere in my determination not to burden my children with adult emotions I had let them down. I have allowed my children to adopt a normality that is created by one party, however you look at it this is unbalanced.
But then my daughter arrived, tall and gorgeous, she has grown since last year. The innocence with which she greats me is as if she has simply walked from her bedroom and this is not an annual visit. An hour of humour and love carefully spent with dimmed lights, after all dads don’t cry, makes it all seem right. Whatever I have or haven’t done for my children that innocence tells me that I’ve not shared my pain. That door to a parent’s heart can never be closed no matter how hard some try, the path to a parent’s heart is shorter for their children than it is for a surgeon.
Perhaps my children will read the blog at some point, but by then they will be old enough for the stories not to change their view of the world. I would like to think that they can at least learn that even dads have emotions, not a bad lesson eh?