The foolish man seeks happiness in the distance; the wise grows it under his feet. – James Oppenheim
I drove to the airport yesterday to see my youngest son and his buddy off for their big trip to Alaska for the summer. I’d said goodbye to him on Friday when he came down for a belated Mother’s Day celebration, but I wanted to do something a little more special, so I wrote him a letter and hand-delivered it to him at the airport. I felt way better seeing him off this way. I miss him already. But I feel like I grew some happiness under my feet, and for that idea, wherever the hell it came from, I’m grateful.
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I wanted to see you off at the airport today, well, just because. When you and your brother came down yesterday, it was easy to focus on other stuff besides you – your sister’s recovery from surgery, Mother’s Day, your brother’s big gift to us. And it’s been kind of that way for many months, with Mom’s tumor, your sibs’ surgeries, and the launching of Real Joe taking up much of my mental space. You haven’t gotten much attention from me during this time, I’m afraid.
So I find myself a bit sad this morning. I’m missing you already, and now I won’t see you for four months. I’m happy — thrilled — for you, of course. And, yes, a little envious.
It’s tempting to fill a good-bye letter like this with advice and admonitions and don’t-forget-tos. But I remember the lesson life taught me from our lunch back in February (I’ve included the Weblog entry) so I’ll spare you.
The past 20 years with you have been a treat. As I used to say when you were little: I’m really glad you were born into our family! That got a little too corny to say once you became a teenager, but maybe you’re old enough now to handle parental corn.
If we’re lucky, we’ll have another 60+ years or so to keep enjoying and learning from one another. If not, well, I’ve been blessed to have at least 20 years with you and that’s not too bad of a deal, as we say here in Minnesota.
During this trip to Alaska, I hope you develop the ability to “see other universes in the eyes of strangers.” I’ll try to do the same on our trip to Europe, and then when we see each other in September, we can tell each other stories of what we’ve learned from them.
In the meantime, carry in your heart the knowledge and feeling of how much I love you and how pleased and grateful I am that you’re my son.
Love, Dad