Month: May 2013

  • The end of Xanga?

    I could wax philosophical about my years on Xanga, but in the end it all comes down to the people.  Many amazing friends I have met over the years (in real life, to boot!) and anonymous strangers with whom our lives both changed by meeting in this space between the real world and virtual reality…thanks for everything.  If Xanga truly does shut down and you want to remain in contact you can message me your facebook addy.  If I don’t add you please don’t be offended, since I would only add people that I feel I know enough to “cross over” into that world. Aloha and mahalo!

  • Letting Go

    One of the worst things you can experience as a parent is not being there for your child when he needs you.  While consumed by the OCD madness that is the Black Hawk helicopter parenting of an infant, it is quite easy to forget what it is like when you and your child are separated.  All those moments of shopping (for him, not us), prepping, feeding, changing, Disney-esque facial contortions, nonsensical jibberish-speak (by parents with graduate degrees, imagine that) filling the here and now made those few days watching him in the NICU after he was born a distant memory.  Why worry about what you cannot do for your child while you are actually doing everything for him?

    Currently my wife and son are in Korea, spending an extended time with her parents.  The best moment of every day–seeing the flash of recognition in my baby’s eyes before he smiles at me–is quickly followed by the worst, when I cannot return that affection by picking him up and smashing his cheek with a kiss.  My heart breaks when I see him reach out for his father, only to find a cold, artificial iPad in his grasp.  It is in these moments that I am wrenched back to the NICU, being able to watch him, to tell him that I love him, assure him that his daddy is here but rendered unable to do anything beyond that.

    The space between you and your child–whether physical or wrought through disagreement–will always be too large, too deep and too wide.

    As parents we always want to be there for our children, but sooner or later there will come the day when we cannot.  We have to let go, not of our love, but of our ability to be the same mothers and fathers we were when they were precious newborns.

    One day he will go off to college.  One day he will get married and have a family of his own. One day his physical and intellectual strength will surpass my own and he will no longer need me to care for him.  And, finally, one day I will die and the only care I provide for him that will continue will be that which has already been embedded in his heart.  My love will be the only lesson that remains.

    And it is that very last thing which gives me hope and comfort.  For while love endures, all else shall pass, all else shall fade into inconsequence and all else shall not cross over to the other side.  Letting go does not mean I am going anywhere but here.

    I miss you, my son. Daddy will always be here for you, even when my time on this earth has come to an end.