A friend’s wife died recently. Colon cancer. I had no idea. We hadn’t talked in years. I assumed he was just one of those people who falls in love and forgets the world. I can’t begrudge someone their happiness.
Her memorial service is a study in upper-middle class values and taste. Family members and close friends give emotional speeches about her life and legacy and love.
Hours later I’m back in a hospital room bearing witness to something I’m not really prepared for. The inevitable lurks nearby. Soon.
The fingers smell like baby powder and alcohol. I need a break. The next day I tell my youngest we’re going on an adventure – a biking adventure.
A Sunday filled with sunlight. We ride our bikes – my big bike and her little bike – along the Charles River. First on one side, and then the other. We peddle past sweating joggers, chatting family units and lovers holding hands, past picnickers lounging on blankets, gaggles of geese and strung-out junkies nodding on benches.
“Daddy, I see a park! Can we stop?!”
Of course we can. She plays while I wait with other parents in the patches of shade. Some helicopter and hover. I keep my distance and watch as she navigates the jungle gyms instantly making fair-weather friends to play tag with. She has more energy than three other kids combined. Did I forget to give her her Adderall this morning?
The shade shrinks and she drinks the rest of her water. Lets go. We make our way back past the Hatch Shell, along the river filled with sail boats, through the crowds in Harvard Square, and back to the car.
Before we leave, she discovers another park and a new set of friends. I stow the bikes and watch her laugh and play.
By the time we leave, the sun hangs low in the sky. “I had fun,” she says. I did too.
It’s funny because it feels like there’s almost no fun in my life anymore. But, there is joy, periodically. And for that I am thankful.
…
The next day, this child demands she be allowed to watch videos on her Kindle. No. She spends too much time passively consuming. Her expression blank.
Arms crossed and foot stomping. “You hate me!” she declares. “If you loved me, you’d let me watch.”
Love. Hate. Responsibility. Fun. No fun. Life. No life.
The sun is shining again outside. How about we go for another bike ride … before I head back to the hospital one last time.