Isaac asked me today, "Can I hold your hand, Papa?" I agreed, of course, and it got me to thinking again of something that has crossed my mind often lately. There will be a day soon when he doesn't want to hold my hand anymore. Like so many other airs of childhood, this one, too, will trail off behind him. But, for now I'm treasuring it. He is my son. My SON. I can't find a word to describe how deeply I love Isaac and Julia. At this age, his fickle attitude can shift wildly, but there is no doubt that he knows his Papa. At this age Cheryl and I are his "home."So I do my best to remain vividly aware when Isaac or Julia want to connect. If it is to hold my hand, to be picked up ... whatever ... I'm paying attention. I'm actively trying to burn those memories in deep. He will not know what I'm thinking or how deeply it affects me until one day his child takes his hand and same part of his heart.
2 comments:
Ahhh, you did it. You made me cry! I know that is not to accomplish, but what a sweet post. I love you Gabe and feel so blessed that Isaac and Julia have you for their Papa.
I'm with Cheryl...Aahhh, that's such a sweet commentary on being a parent! You said that well! BRAVO!
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