I remember my father and mother never celebrated their birthdays. They may have before they had the kids, and they may have celebrated their birthdays and such between each other but never with us kids.
Here’s the reason why. My parents never wanted to be the type of parents whose children always felt obligated to do something for them just because the world recognizes a certain day that we have to honor our parents with obligatory cards and gifts.
I feel the same way. Birthday presents and parties are for kids. Our parents always observed our birthdays and holidays on a large-scale basis. Our Christmases were glorious.
My daughter knows I don’t care about Father’s Day. She’s a great person who has grown up strong and confident and good. Everyday is Father’s Day being Lorelei’s Pop. I’m proud to call her my daughter.
I get up on Sunday morning and she’s already gone off to work the brunch shift at the vegan restaurant where she works. I go into the bathroom, and there on the window sill is an envelope. On it is written the word, “Dad.”
She didn’t have to do it, and she knows it, but she wanted to, It was a lovely card, with all the right things printed on it. But what really meant the most to me, is the words she wrote to me inside the card. I am tearing up as I write this.
Respect and love are earned. You can’t force or guilt someone into caring for you. You can only earn that through your words and your deeds.
When raising Lorelei I saw myself as an Archer. I am firm… but flexible. I hold the bow with a firm hand, but I am flexible as I draw back the string. Lorelei is my arrow. If I am steady, firm, and flexible I can cast my arrow into tomorrow on a straight and true course.
She will fly into tomorrow, and that is a place I can never visit.
Lorelei will be just fine.
I’m sort of quoting something I learned while reading “The Prophet” by Kahlil Gibran.
by Kahlil Gibran
Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.
You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,
which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them,
but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.
You are the bows from which your children
as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite,
and He bends you with His might
that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer’s hand be for gladness;
For even as He loves the arrow that flies,
so He loves also the bow that is stable.
I love you, Lorelei.
Thank you for being in my life.
Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish every day at 8am EST.
Instagram: @phicklephilly Facebook: phicklephilly