Today, my 4 year old son went to pre-school for the first time. I took the morning off to, with his mother, make sure he got to class and dealt with “school” alright. He’s never really been away from family. My mother and my father watch him during the day. My wife dropped from full-time to part-time at her job to be with him more. He spends time with my wife’s parents at least once a week.

With my son not spending any time away from at least someone in his family, I was concerned that this day would be traumatic for him. He did just fine. My wife and I, on the other hand, were more shaken that he ever could’ve been. Though we withheld our tears, at least until we were alone in our own cars, I could tell that both of us knew that an invisible landmark had just been erected. Our only son (until November anyway) was growing up. Not was growing up, but has grown up.

On the ride into work – 35 minutes of sheer boredom – for some reason, a long forgotten memory came back with unexpected nostalgic intensity. Over 13 years ago, I went away to college. I attended a small state school that was about 4 hours away from my hometown. Except for a month vacation in Europe when I was 17, I’d never spent more than a week away from home. I was, at one time, terrified and exhilarated – terrified at being on my own, exhilarated at being on my own. I knew this was a huge moment in the life of a teenager becoming a man.

Apparently, my father knew this as well. My mother and father had followed me on the 4 hour trip to help carry my belongings. My small two-seater wouldn’t hold all of my things. After we got both of our cars unloaded, it was finally time; time to finally be on my on my own. Ever the momma’s boy, I hugged my mother and kissed her on the cheek. Her ‘baby’ was now a man about to face the world alone. I turned to my father and moved to hug him – it just seemed like the right thing to do. My father – who has never been an overly affectionate man – took a half-step back and stuck out his hand. It took me a second to realize what he was doing. After my mind caught up, I thrust my hand forward and shook my father’s hand. They went home; I went to the dorm.

Not until 13 years later do I recognize the significance of that moment. My father and I have had a somewhat turbulent relationship in the past. We were as two bull-headed men constantly banging heads like two rams fighting over a woman. I was rebellious, headstrong, and thought I knew everything. He was hell-bent on making sure I didn’t screw up my life. More than once, I thought I’d been punished for being a bad person in a past life (back when I believed such nonsense).

Time has passed and my father and I have pretty much reconciled. I’ve started to realize that he was right in more ways than I could’ve ever imagined. When my son came into this world, I started to see things through my father’s eyes. Funny how kids do that...

We still disagree on things. I still think he’s a little stuck in the 50’s. He still thinks I’m a little flighty and irresponsible. But we’ve started to get along more than I ever imagined we could. I actually crave time with my father now whereas in the past I would try to get away as quickly as I could. I understand where he was coming from when I was a kid. He was doing the best he knew how to do. He loved me and he showed me that through discipline and guidance. The same thing that I do with my son...

Dad, I hope you read this. There’s something that I haven’t said to you in about 25 years. I don’t know why I haven’t...I just haven’t. I guess this is one of the easiest places to do this....

Dad, I love you and I’m glad that you’re my dad. Thanks for all that you’ve taught me throughtout the years.

Now...everyone out there, call your dad and tell him you love him. If I can do it, you can.

Don’t like it? Well, you’ve still got that right.

God Bless,

Doug