The Writings of Tom Grasso

What you feel is life, what you live is another story.

Tag: acceptance

The Love of a Parent

January 16, 2020 /

I get sad sometimes.

I miss my oldest child. Memories flood my mind of her wild curly locks, her diaper swishing in hurried toddler steps. She once fit in the crux of my arm, and now she’s a woman nearly as tall as I am. She’s a powerhouse, and I’m a proud poppa even as I swelter in the wish of wanting her nearby.

I chat with my middle child on the way to school, her life a swirl of priorities I barely remember having. I marvel at her smile and her determination, but mostly I admire her courage in just being who she is. She makes no excuses, offers no apologies, and stands tall as a master of herself.

My youngest spends most of this morning trying to make us laugh. He knows success when his sister smiles. She is stingy with such things, and she makes us work for her reaction. He doesn’t care for her approval, but he does have a need to make the world a happier place. He’s been that way since the day he was born.

Time has been my best friend and my worst enemy.

This sadness is not a typical sadness. It’s a joyful sadness. I am so grateful and happy for what time has given. I’ve held three wonderful children in my arms, watched them grow from seeds to saplings, and marveled as they’ve bloomed in every season. I don’t hold onto their youth as much as I wish it was longer, that I had more time to marvel, to appreciate and to soak it all in. I want more time.

But the sunrise is fleeting and the dawn but a passing moment. I still have the day to enjoy in the appreciation of both.

So my children walk away and I smile, feeling both joy and sadness at the same time. I let them go even as I hold them close and watch them bloom even as I wish they’d stay saplings for just a little while longer. This is the love of a parent.

Healing (A Poem with some prose)

June 2, 2019 /
What if today,
We found ourselves centered in the midst of our own Being?
Could we stroke the hair
Without owning the despair
Of the one we love?
 
Could we somehow find the balance,
To love without owning?
Without owning the one we love?
Without owning their demons they play with in the night?
Without owning the lies they tell themselves in the moments of their despair?
 
It’s a challenge, no doubt.
The Savior in me wants to die on the cross for you,
To save you from your sins, to cast the devils the beguiles you into the Sea’s abyss.
And banish your tears,
Exile them well beyond the fabled gates of heaven.
 
But the lover in me knows there is a much harder choice.
 
I must let you go to wallow in your misery,
Allow you to wade in that ocean of darkened truth,
I will not let you drown, no….I will die to save you then,
But no person alive has ever become the strongest swimmer they can be
From the security of a lifeboat, of the safety of a sandy beach.
We must all come close to drowning to know the beauty of this life,
The wonders of our own strength,
The truth of who we are indeed.
Knowing love will not allow us to sink beneath the surface.
 
If we drown, it will be of our own choosing.
We can always push the outstretched hand of love away,
One last breath before we sink, exhaled in the denial of one truth,
For the finality of another.
We are all blessed creators, even in our moments of uncertainty.
For it is we who create even the darkest moments we have wallowed in.
_____________
 
I have several scars, one of which resides within my left eyebrow. It was the result of a sucker punch, but that’s a story for another day. I remember when I was in the emergency room getting stitched up, the doctor doing the stitching said these poignant words to me.
 
“It may start to itch as it heals. Don’t scratch it, or it will never heal. Let the healing process do its thing.”
 
As I’ve gotten older, and a bit wiser, I’ve realized that piece of advice is a great metaphor for all of the wounds, both emotional and physical, I have that needed to be healed. The more attention I gave them, the more I scratched them when they itched, the less likely they were to heal and the more likely they were to get infected. If I could only master leaving them to the natural process of healing they would heal fantastically without any intentional effort of my mind or ego. In fact, the only mindful intention I would give them was in the mastery of not picking at them. Believe me, that isn’t always easy.
 
That does not mean that we should ignore our wounds. We do, after all, need to get stitches from time to time. There is a time, though, when we need to let go of the focus we place on our wounds and allow the natural process of healing to take place. Sometimes, we need to get the hell out of the way, and focus on other parts of life, if we ever want to be truly healed.
 
That is a great reminder for me today, and a pretty awesome intention to set as I begin my morning.
 

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