Happy Birthday Goose

         My daughters birthday was this past weekend. I was unable to spend the day with her. However, I was able to spend some time with her on the day after her birthday with her. We went for a ride on my motorcycle. First we went for lunch. Then she took me to visit her new job. Which was awesome. A custom popcorn place, where I bought a mega-size bag of super sharp cheddar cheese flavored bag of popcorn! Then we went to a mall where we walked around and visited a lot of stores and went to a book store and spent gobs of cash on books and movies. 

I spent most of the money. As a father should. Then I offered to make her and her college roommate dinner. So we stopped at a store for groceries. Perused the aisles and then a quick jaunt back to the dorms and I was cooking.

Forty minutes later, chicken parmesan, and fettuccini alfredo was served to some grateful and starving college kids. 

I was sitting on a futon making up stories for Emo Porgs and stuffed unicorns and wishing my daughter was still living at home. 

Which got me thinking to a time when I was first re-introduced to my mother after ten years of separation.

We were at a mall, she wanted to buy me some clothes and I was in a dressing room and she was handing me clothes over the dressing room door. I’d been trying on the clothes she’d been tossing me for ten, maybe fifteen minutes and I was getting tired, nervous and uncomfortable. Finally, I’d had enough and put on the clothes I’d been wearing and just walked out and said I’d had enough and didn’t like anything and there was nothing I wanted.

We all walked out of the place in silence.

I didn’t know then what was going on and I’m sure she didn’t either.

Now I do.

It was a feeling of loss and longing.

A feeling of wanting to show love and not knowing how to do it.

A feeling that a simple hug would fill. A feeling that the words “I Love and Miss you” would suffice. But those words are simply lost in the simplicity of the moment because that moment is so huge. So overwhelming.

It’s like looking into the Grand Canyon and not knowing what to do. But all you have to do is accept it. Just reach out and feel it. Hug it. Accept it and know that it exists. Then it will be alright.

My daughter has moved on from my life. Her life is her own now. I have to accept that. It hurts. But I will be able to enjoy our days together, our hours together and I will always be able to cook for her and she will always be able to enjoy my food that I cook for her and know that it is made with love from me and will be a part of her.

Have a great week.