Thank you ... you real man, you.

On the 5 hour drive on the way home from my parents house yesterday, we stopped at a gas station to stretch our legs and get a pick-me-up for the doziness which was occurring inside of my body.

 

As I pulled in, to my left I noticed young woman sitting in a 4-door dodge neon, wearing scrubs and casually texting or playing on her cell phone.  I didn’t pay her much attention and assumed she was waiting for her passenger who was probably inside getting a refreshment or using the bathroom.  I thought it odd though, as it appeared she was on her way home from work and unless she was sharing a ride with a co-worker, who might she be waiting for?

 

I came back out and the entrance to my car was obstructed by the woman, who was now at the rear passenger door alongside a man about my age and a little boy whom they were both helping get settled into a booster sear.  I couldn’t enter my car because of where they were standing, so I set my drink on the hood and opened the straw, slowly, so as not to hurry them.

 

The man had kind of a high and tight haircut so I assumed he was on reserves or in the forces, and I heard him say “See you later buddy” as he walked away from the car.  Ahh.  Now it was making sense.  The woman shut the door and she and the man said something which was inaudible but I’m guessing it was “See you later” or something to that effect.  There was no love between them.  I bet there was at some point.  Even if it was just for one night.

 

As I entered my car I looked in the rear-view mirror and saw Kristen’s eyes full of tears and I can saw pain in her eyes.  It only took a second for me to realize that she had seen something happen.  I turned to look left, to the rear passenger window of the neon to see that boy the man and woman were helping into the car.  He was about 10 years old.  He was sobbing, crying, looking back at his dad as he walked away, with eyes full of tears, red-faced and head down, his face held in his hands. 

 

I too, began to cry.

 

It was the exchange.   The return. 

 

What awful terms to describe this scenario.  They make it seem like a retail transaction.

 

There was so much pain in that boys eyes.  I instantly got sick to my stomach and my own tears began to flow.  All I wanted to do was give that little boy a hug and to tell him it would be alright.  All our windows were shut, but I could almost hear his cry as he continued to look back over his shoulder, out the window at where his father had been, trying to get one more glimpse.  The time was too short?  He wanted dad back?  His face showed the pain that he knew his cries were futile.  They wouldn’t change the situation.  He was helpless.  He had no nope.

 

 His mom looked at me and noticed that I had seen the exchange.  I tried to feign a smile with my lips and look the other way.  She was saying some things to the little boy and she had a strange smile on her face, maybe she was trying to hide the pain from him.  From me.  She pulled slowly out of the parking spot, making promises to him I’m sure, maybe fore ice cream or maybe a movie or a new toy to soothe the pain.  To quiet the cry.

 

I want to know what toy it is that you can buy which can fix the pain inflicted upon your heart as your parents try to live separate lives with their child being sent in-between.  Whatever ‘normal’ they think they can bring into that situation.  They are fooling themselves. 

 

What breaks my heart even more is the fact that this same thing happens across the country, perhaps a million times or more every week.  Maybe every day?  And then the hurt and the pain, gets covered up.  It gets put into the hurt pocket.  Maybe it doesn’t get dealt with.  it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that the crumbling of family and the values stems, in part, from this pain and devastation these children, even adult children, must go through when this breaking apart of the foundation of your life takes place.  No wonder the high divorce rate and the incarcerations we have,  the abuses of alcohol, drugs, food, etc. 

 

I am crying over the boy as I write this and re-live the scenario.  It was truly one of the most heart-wrenching scenes I’ve seen played out.  It’s the first time I think I’ve ever witnessed a custody exchange. 

 

I know you have had your own gut-wrenching with your own kids and at other times that we all were not part of or privy to, so maybe you’ve experienced something like this before.

 

I wrote this note to tell you thank you.  Thank you for raising your kids.  For not abandoning your families, in the past, now or in the future.  Whether or not that thought ever entered your mind is not where I’m going. 

 

I can appreciate how difficult raising little ones can be.  I know every stage will present its own struggle.  Thank God it’s not revealed to me now, because I know I’m sure I’d be anxious and worried about those future days. 

 

For now, I’ll focus on today.

 

I squeezed the kids a little tighter last night and kissed them a little longer at bed.  Smiled when they whined, laughed at their silly jokes and praised God I have a wife that didn’t leave me so many years ago.

 

So “Thank you” for doing what you do, for loving your wives and raising those kiddos in ‘The Way’.