Marilee and I attended a wedding in Chicago today. Clarey was able to babysit the children, so everyone was happy—Clarey gets paid to enjoy playing with our children, our children like to hang out with Clarey, and the my wife and I get to attend a ceremony and reception party without having to manage the inexhaustible demands of two young kids.
I had tears come to my eyes when the bride and her father made their entrance into the church, and it had little to do with the bride. She is a fully capable adult marrying a very loving and nice man. My thoughts were on the father and the ceremonial act of escorting his daughter down the wedding aisle. It struck me as the finale of active fatherhood, a movement from father to grandfather. Perhaps if my daughters and I are fortunate and reach that event, I might view it in some other manner, such as with relief, or joy.
Undoubtedly. my mortality-tinged view is influenced by the death of my father earlier this month. With my daughters as young as they are, I am still looking forward to many more years of being an active dad. It’s difficult to contemplate retirement from that role, and it’s really tough to feel like my usefulness to my daughters will someday end. I suppose it won’t really end, but will rather evolve. Still, it’s all too easy to feel myself in the shoes of that father, walking his daughter up the aisle—I am in no hurry at all to reach that day.
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