April 26, 2021:
“Where do we go from here?” A familiar refrain from a popular song that hit the charts back in the mid-seventies. Yes, the children have grown up, and the question is, “Who is left to lend us a hand?”
I am constantly reminded that even throughout this crap Covid environment, life continues to move forward. My youngest son is now in university (albeit online, for now) and my oldest son of twenty-one has relocated to his own bachelor pad, giving life a shot from the perspective of paying his own bills (well…mostly), but it’s a double-edged sword isn’t it. As I’m sure any parent with older children who have moved out on their own can attest, seeing your child take positive steps and control of their own life obviously fills one with a sense of pride and accomplishment, but quite frankly, I was blindsided more by the feeling of profound trepidation and heartache.
I found myself watching a show before falling asleep one night, shortly after my son moved out (you know, one of those “Tony Robbins” type motivational spiels) that initially started with some interesting philosophies on the do’s and do nots of child rearing, but quickly turned into a seminar on the man’s personal relationship with “Jesus” (insert eye roll here).
Quite frankly, I personally could care less who your demagogue is or what your religious beliefs are. If you want to pray to some never before seen icon, or follow the inscriptions of some book, which over time has been edited to suit the needs of the tax advantaged church that promulgates it, or if you’re waiting at the bottom of a mountain for the space ship to come and take you away, have at it, but for the love of god (oops, I just did it myself), wear a freakin’ mask, wash your hands, and practice safe social distancing (okay, who’s preaching now, right?), but I digress.
This orator (who had outed himself as being in his sixties) appeared to be in pretty decent shape with a full head of light brown Grecian formula hair, wearing the latest preppy college clothing including a pair of hipster boat shoes and seemed to be trying extra hard to identify with the younger crowd, which at the spirited age of fifty-seven could have been me (well…it could have). He was expressing that the relationship a parent builds with their children should not be based so much on what the parent wants for their child, but more so on how the parent can help their child with what the child wants for themselves, regardless of how that parent feels about it.
Naturally, when our children are young, we put them on a basic path (school, sports, arts...etc), but during the course of this process they will determine on their own accord whether or not they want to veer off of that path and onto another. This is where (according to the preacher) the constructive relationship between parent and child (developed in the early years) manifests itself. There needs to be respect by the parent for the child’s point of view (during their younger childhood ages), even though it may be embarrassing, or even at odds with their own.
We, as parents, have to be willing to accept that although we have spent a shit ton of money (yes, the rabbit hole can be pretty deep) on our child’s dance lessons, hockey aspirations, or university ambitions (in other words what we might perceive as their future potential), that they may decide on their own (at some point) to head in a completely different direction and we (as parents) need to be okay with that.
I suppose I’m bringing all this up because of the coincidental timing between my son moving out and the program on the television. It seemed to resonate with me, as I recall what it was like when I moved out (the hardships, trials and tribulations) and how I want for my own children to have an entirely different experience.
Having said that, considering how I had reached a point of having to collect welfare in my late teens to now experiencing freedom fifty-five (even if it’s currently in my own little Covid prison), who the hell can know for sure where one will end up, and there in lies my trepidation and heartache. It’s not an easy world and there may not be anyone left to “lend us a hand”, but I will definitely be there to lend my children one.
My Covid Prison
Until next time.
As you all may know, I am on a journey to discovering my creative soul, and as such have now published my first full length suspense novel MISTY LAKE, which can be purchased online through my website https://www.brianrmartinauthor.com/ either in e-book or print-on-demand, or by using this site https://books.friesenpress.com/store/title/119734000173167708 for best pricing.
Ironically, as I have ordered and have recently just received over fifty soft-cover copies of my novel to my house, I find myself feeling those emotions “trepidation and heartache” once again, as I try and figure out, “Where do I go from here?”
My next blog will no doubt be focused more on my novel as I begin to work on promotions, but if you feel inclined to visit my website (as listed above), and perhaps give sales a head start, prior to my media blitz, lol (no really…lol), that would be spectacular.
The journey continues one slow Covid free step at a time. Cheers.