The little one sneezed and I blessed her without thinking.
Realizing I was intruding I resolved to return my attention to the task at hand but I couldn't help overhearing his patient and gentle explanations. What was on the kids' menu. Reading the "fun facts," aloud. Quietly talking with his female companion...I haven't any idea if they were married, dating, or even the parents of those children, though it seems I heard the word Daddy once...
The children were very well behaved, and their little voices stung like pin-prick reminders of my own little ones. I was deeply moved, and resolved to tell them I appreciated what I'd heard (embarrassed for my eavesdropping or no.)
My waitress was especially nice, and took great care to check on me and make me feel welcome, (she must have sensed something. Who knows?) I had thought I'd just been polite, but in retrospect I may have been transparent as the windows. I had been smiling at the memory, but the little sweethearts next door had brought to mind that my girls and I would have been there together any other Sunday and by all rights they should and would have been. But for a string of bad luck with the esteemed former wife's transportation last weekend, (I'd pulled duty this one.)
My waitress was especially nice, and took great care to check on me and make me feel welcome, (she must have sensed something. Who knows?) I had thought I'd just been polite, but in retrospect I may have been transparent as the windows. I had been smiling at the memory, but the little sweethearts next door had brought to mind that my girls and I would have been there together any other Sunday and by all rights they should and would have been. But for a string of bad luck with the esteemed former wife's transportation last weekend, (I'd pulled duty this one.)
At any rate, I had resolved to act. In this day and age, too few Men understand fatherhood and its true calling and I wasn't about to let it go unnoticed.
When I stood, I excused myself and told them "I have two young daughters myself, and I'd just like to say that I really appreciate hearing how patient and attentive you've been with these two. I'd like to buy you breakfast if I may." They protested politely, but I caught the gentelman's eye when I asked again, emphasizing that it was important to me. He relented, and I thanked them both and wished them a wonderful day.
On my way out the door I asked their server for the ticket, and there was a small fuss as I paid and departed, but I wasn't prepared for what came next.
As I drove away I was overcome. I very nearly wept. Having already turned onto the highway that would have been disastrous, so I managed control and wondered at how much it had affected me. I was glad for the short ride home.
I suppose I am late admitting I don't know the depths of my emotion with regard to the grievous wrong that is my separation from my children. I have yet to grasp what justification, real or imagined, anyone could invent for visiting this on me, or some others I've known. I may have been difficult to deal with, or downright impossible to love but one thing I have never been is an unworthy, or unloving father, and I've been completely open about the depth of my devotion to my children. The revelation that someone so close to me could misread or disregard something so utterly essential to my existence only serves to underscore the poor decision I made in trusting or loving her. I am not burdened by comparable feelings for her, as I'm not sure I would have survived that. I know now why men are driven to terrible things when heartbroken, or lost, and I thank God I was only the former and not the latter. I would have been undone.
I am still broken...
I am still incomplete and bitter...and I am lonely. I know this cannot be remedied.
I am not ready.
I do not and have not ached for Her, but the pain of distance between the children and I ebbs and flows with my thoughts, day and night. I do my best not to wonder what failure in my judgement could have lead to this. It is my one regret...
When I stood, I excused myself and told them "I have two young daughters myself, and I'd just like to say that I really appreciate hearing how patient and attentive you've been with these two. I'd like to buy you breakfast if I may." They protested politely, but I caught the gentelman's eye when I asked again, emphasizing that it was important to me. He relented, and I thanked them both and wished them a wonderful day.
On my way out the door I asked their server for the ticket, and there was a small fuss as I paid and departed, but I wasn't prepared for what came next.
As I drove away I was overcome. I very nearly wept. Having already turned onto the highway that would have been disastrous, so I managed control and wondered at how much it had affected me. I was glad for the short ride home.
I suppose I am late admitting I don't know the depths of my emotion with regard to the grievous wrong that is my separation from my children. I have yet to grasp what justification, real or imagined, anyone could invent for visiting this on me, or some others I've known. I may have been difficult to deal with, or downright impossible to love but one thing I have never been is an unworthy, or unloving father, and I've been completely open about the depth of my devotion to my children. The revelation that someone so close to me could misread or disregard something so utterly essential to my existence only serves to underscore the poor decision I made in trusting or loving her. I am not burdened by comparable feelings for her, as I'm not sure I would have survived that. I know now why men are driven to terrible things when heartbroken, or lost, and I thank God I was only the former and not the latter. I would have been undone.
I am still broken...
I am still incomplete and bitter...and I am lonely. I know this cannot be remedied.
I am not ready.
I do not and have not ached for Her, but the pain of distance between the children and I ebbs and flows with my thoughts, day and night. I do my best not to wonder what failure in my judgement could have lead to this. It is my one regret...
