This line stood out to as I read The Lovely Bones a few days ago. I still don't really know why it struck me so, but it did so much as I was compelled to mark the page. When I read that line, I thought of my dad. He was a tough nut to crack, and I always felt growing up that I was not sure how he felt of me. Yes, that line fits my dad. I definitely played a game of hide and seek with him for affection. Sometimes he would seek me out, to spend time with me and talk to me, but mostly he was hiding. Hiding away in his room, reading the paper or watching the game. Hiding away in his memories or his dreams. Hiding away with his disappointments. Hiding his affection.
My dad didn't have a dad. Grandma Anita was AWOL, running amock in the 50's with different folks at all hours of the night, and I think because of that my dad didn't really have a model of love. The Marine Corp raised him and with a firm hand and an even tighter fist, they molded him to be a serious, take no crap kind of man. I don't remember much affection growing up. And I try to. I want to. I don't want to be one of those people that only remembers the hard stuff. I know my dad loved us, but willing showing affection I think was out of his comfort zone. Hugs and kisses were not the norm. And with my mom working nights while I was growing up, I just don't remember a lot of emotion with me. Unless is was negative. Spill your soda, you got emotion. Three chores not done, you definitely got emotion. But love???
I mean seriously I am squeezing my eyes shut right now trying to remember, and I can't. Sometimes, here and there, he was happy and proud, but mostly it was his eyes were tired and searching for something that was wrong.
Ok wait! There it is...I remember.
"Kathi, I am not ashamed of you anymore..."
"I'm not ashamed of you either, Dad...."
There it is. That's how he said he loved me.
So, now what? Well, here's the reason for this rambling tonight. I find myself having a harder and harder time as Sydney grows up to give her tangible love. It was easy when she was a baby. It was super easy to hug and kiss her just as its easy to love and kiss on Jack right now. But I feel this barrier, that creeps up, every now and again, when it comes to hugging and snuggling as the kids get older. Its like sometimes I don't know how toexpress my love for her as an older child. Like I don't know how. Is it enough to spend time and listen? Do things together? How do you balance expectations and teachings with nurturing and acceptance? How do you make them feel loved completely?
I love her. I LOVE HER. I am so proud of her, as her mother, I think she is a superb child. Loving and kind and generous and smart. But something in me, something deep within stops me, every now and again, from fully connecting with her. Crazy huh?And I know sometimes she misses it. I know sometimes she misses me. Not always, but sometimes. Because when I do fully reach out, past what feels comfortable, and embrace her, she shines. She literally lights up under the glow of love.
But what stops me from reaching her everyday?
Was it because that was how I was raised?
Always an arm length away?
So, anyhow, I don't know what the resolution to this post is. I guess I just needed to get it written. Maybe then I can reflect more clearly. I do know that I don't want to play a game of hide and seek for love with my kids. I don't ever want my love to be hidden from them. I don't want them to seek my attention and affection, I want them to know that they have it. Everyday. They are my life. It's just figuring out how to express that tangibly. Everyday.
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