In my book “Cycles” it becomes rather obvious rather quickly that I didn’t have a close relationship with either of my parents. I was either left to fend for myself most of the time, or getting in trouble for touching something that my father hadn’t wanted messed with while he was away at work.
When I was at my wedding, my parents arrived about an hour after I had. My father had donned a tuxedo and was looking quizzically at my other male friends…many of whom were close in age to himself…hugging me. He asked if he could hug me a short while afterwards. The first time in as long of a time as I could remember. His father had passed away when he was thirteen years old, and the fathering skill set had been learned ‘on the job.’ It wasn’t until years later, shortly before he died – that we resolved a great many of our open wound issues.
I didn’t want those wounds to fester and inflict the relationships I had with my two sons. I began noticing earlier in my life with them that I would have this invisible force field show up right when I would walk up to their rooms to spend time with them. It felt like a vacuum inside of me. I knew that I wanted to do things with them and be a part of their lives. Up inside my head, it felt like I was missing the one tool in the toolbox I needed to complete the job.
So I started spending time on purpose with my oldest son. We would go to get a small supper after his music lesson, instead of making idle chit chat in the car on the way home. It was awkward at first, but then we began opening up and having conversations that were real. Sharing what was happening in our lives, and truly beginning to understand each other’s worlds.
Not too long afterwards, I discovered that my youngest wanted to join me and his older brother. Join us for what had affectionately become, “Wing Night.” The three of us, and a big plate of chicken wings. Some nights having big heated arguments about stupid things like video games. Some nights just quietly eating in each other’s presence.
What I learned – was that setting aside a time for the people that matter to you is the ultimate incarnation of love. People see that you’re spending a currency you’ll only ever have a limited amount of –time- on them. You’ve made a place for them, and defend it from encroachment from other less important things.
I have the best relationship with my sons. My oldest has hugged me about a thousand times. Now that he’s moved out to his own house, I miss the morning hugs, and get the occasional one from his younger (albeit less affectionate) brother. They know that I love them. That I am proud of them regardless of their achievements or failures. I have admitted to them that I make mistakes and am learning. That I am sorry for those mistakes, and require their forgiveness sometimes. That recipe has helped me break the cycle, and build a new foundation. One where I will be hugging them first at their own weddings someday.