The oldest moved 10 miles away into his first apartment. He has yet to graduate from High school, but he has certainly earned the right to be treated like an adult with the capacity to make reasoned and thoughtful decisions. As he was packing, hauling, and unpacking there was an apexed sense of fatherhood pride.
"Job well done Happy," was my simple thought.
Later, the wife and I moved his bed, vacuumed, and dusted a much emptier room inside our home. I looked at her, and she returned the glance. The eye contact was more than she could bear. Tears seeped down her cheek. I chuckled at her awkwardly. And, then a large lump filled my throat. in that moment our little blond boy who, when 3 years old could not sommersault over his enormous head shot through my minds eye. He would put his head down on the ground, straighten his short legs, and roll to his right. Melancholy hit me like a cannonball. I was suddenly overcome with grief. The relationship with my son has forever changed. He no longer "needs" me.
What will he think of the old man now? Where do I fit in this wonderful young man's life? The charge of being the shaper, changer, cons equator, and protector of a young life is dimming quietly. As this era fades, and the curtain falls, what role changes will the next act bring? As the young man I love so much stands center stage in this play that is his own life, when and where wil my entrances and exits be?
Pride... fear... uncertainty... friendship... indifference...loss...joy...anxiety...solitude -- end scene