All is fine while we are at the park. My dad seems tired. He works a lot, and he worked all day Saturday. Earlier in the day, he had volunteered at church for about 4 hours, and then had gone to help my 92-year-old grandma run errands before he came here. I am extremely grateful to him for still taking the time to come over. I can tell he is beat.
Months ago, I had asked him to start spending more time with my son. I had been concerned that he wasn’t getting what he needed from his dad, and that there wouldn’t be a strong enough male presence in his life to really grow up to be a good man.
I have so much admiration for my dad. He is quiet, a man of faith. He never says anything bad about anyone. He is always there for me.
He also writes and sings music. This is one of the songs he wrote, and I think it gives real insight into the kind of man he is.
So, in my situation, there is probably no one better to go to for help with my son.
On our way back from the park, my son started back in on his tirade. Usually he only does this around me, so I was surprised that he was saying all of this in front of my dad.
He started hitting himself with the bat. He said he wanted to make himself go away.
He wanted to pick a neighbors flower. I told him they were not ours and that we would pick some of our own. He said, “But we don’t have wishing flowers. And, I want to wish not to be alive anymore.”
It was interesting to hear my dad’s response because he was saying the same things to my son that I had been saying to him, even though I hadn’t told him about any of this yet.
It made me feel like I must be doing something right, because I know my dad was and is a good father to me.