This is the second installment of what I hope to be many “Surviving as a Cousin” posts by Jason Douglas Holt. Have a great weekend – TP
“If you’re lost, you can look and you will find me
If you fall, I will catch you—I’ll be waiting
Time after Time”
-Cyndi Lauper
There has been an idea brewing inside me since David died. It is something that never once occurred to me while he was living yet hit me like a brick one day while I was channeling all the memories I had of my little cuz. I’ve been reluctant to share this thought for fear that it might sound awkward and seem, in some way, inappropriate. Reading Tim’s blog post “Do The Math” helped push me towards this entry. That blog centered around my son, Sebastian, and the feelings Tim had as he watched Bash communicate and interact with my youngest son, Thaddeus (TJ). I understand the angle Tim took, and I hope that my sons will be best friends and get to experience some of the things that Tim and David got to as brothers. Their gap in age is slightly more (6.5 years), but they should still be close enough to enjoy a wonderful relationship as they get older. But I realized the critical element in their equation that was missing from Tim and David’s… ME.
Of course I don’t mean that literally—Tim and David had me, as well. What I mean is someone like me: that male figure in their life that stood by their side, day after day, through everything that a child experiences. It is difficult to be a kid! I mean this in no way to offend or discredit, but I know the sacrifices that I make for my children; if someone told me that David received the same support and love that Bash and TJ get from me, I would not believe them. Tim has survived and flourished. David was not able to.
When you become a parent, nothing defines you more than your children. Of course, you still are your own person, but you now share everything you do with someone that needs everything that you have to offer. EVERYTHING YOU HAVE TO OFFER. All the real fathers know where I’m coming from. I’ve also had the opportunity to adopt a son, so I can also speak to the level of dedication that that requires, as well. It is my greatest honor and joy to be a father.
But it’s not just the words. Lip service will not suffice. Being a real parent is all about the details. It’s the extra peanut butter you spread to the very corner of the bread on their sandwich. It’s the extra minute you take listening to their stories, trying to focus on the details as they try to encapsulate and verbalize all the beautiful details flying around in their own minds. It’s the trip back to the school where you just dropped them off because you realized they left a permission slip on the table. It’s the pain you feel when you may have been a little too tough on them this morning, and you won’t see them for eight hours to remind them of just how much you love them. It’s genuinely feeling grateful for every hug and kiss you get… ETC. ETC. ETC.
It never ends…
I wish I could have been that source of stability for David.
I’ve let my mind wander into an unrealistic cosmic shift in relationship. Although obviously impossible—if I had the chance, would I take away all the experiences I shared with David as a friend/cousin in order to alter the fabric of his life…? If I could somehow be the father figure he needed, would it have changed his outcome? Would it have provided the direction he needed…
Crazy?
Maybe…
But these are the thoughts you have when dealing with the fact that one of your greatest pillars has crumbled, and you don’t know why. The tides were high, winds were strong, but we could have endured. He should have felt the tide turning… right, Tim?
I wonder now… was it always possible? Was it an inevitable conclusion in the farthest recesses of his mind? Did the thought occur repeatedly like a kick drum throughout his life, and he pushed it back while exercising his immense vocals? When was the point where he knew it was possible to complete the act that he completed? When and how does something like this creep into your being like a jewel thief and steal everything that you have…?
Does it start at the beginning?
Could it have been possible to prevent this if David had a father shielding him from the wickedness that exists, constantly prodding and pushing him towards the positive light, even in his darkest days? The unequivocal knowledge that no matter what happens, that dude will be there… he’ll drop everything if I need it, because THAT’S HIS JOB. Is it possible that a presence like this could have successfully filled the gaps in his heart that doubted whether or not he was good enough? That unwavering illumination in his physical form that could see the light through the thickness of any storm… there is nothing like the love a father has for his son.
What if he had me as that person…
Time after time.
