Here on Father's Day, I'm not anticipating hearing from my children. It's been six years since I've had any communication from them. The divorce wars in Western society gone berserk.
But I had sixteen wonderful years with Jimmy. I remember him taking the ball down the soccer pitch on a long run late in the final game of a tournament in Dulles, deking out the fullback and then confronting the hitherto unscored upon goalie and scoring for the lone goal in the game, thus gaining the trophy for his brand-new travel team the McLean Sting. I miss him but treasure the memories I have of a blazingly fast trailblazing risk-taking young man.
I had fifteen wonderful years with Johnny, whom I last saw ten years ago. This grieves me of course but I count the blessings of the years I had with this wonderful child, the one of my three children who was most like me, observed his Mother once. I remember a boy who shared my love of military history , who called up one time asking to come over to peruse my bookshelf so he could bring back to his Mother's house a boxful of battle history books, who I watched once march back and forth on our sidewalk on a snowy day for half an hour with a shouldered toy rifle, a sentinel keeping us safe in his imagination from danger.
I had fourteen wonderful years with Danny. I remember the time he fell while roughhousing with his brothers and split open his chin requiring stitches and I was unable to prevent his fall or transfer his pain onto myself and that memory still haunts me. I count my blessings for the pleasure of knowing a boy who had a nice blend of speed and athleticism that made him an all-star fullback in football and my go-to emergency goalie when I coached him in soccer.
I miss my children but more, I love my children. Be well, wherever and however you are JJ&D. I am blessed by having known them for a decade and a half a decade ago.