At dinner the other night, a woman I know said, “that happened at the age when you think your father can do everything and is invincible.”
There are moments in your life when you realize that your father is actually just human….not superhuman.
When I was 9 years old, my dad took me to Israel and I can vividly remember the fact that I had to hold his head as he was hunched over the toilet, suffering from a stomach bug.
I bring this up not to paint my dad in a less than favorable light but because Saturday afternoon and into the evening, my kids saw me in the same way.
I don’t know what it was, but I was hurting…in a big way and spent most of the time, as they say, “praying to the porcelain goddess.”
I felt like this was a generational transition moment (not a huge one, but certainly one) and wondered how they felt about it (in between heaves, that is).
I was particularly impressed with how they all responded with such sensitivity and compassion (from their mother’s genes, no doubt) and thinking that…one day, hopefully many years down the road, I’ll be looking at them to take care of me in a much more significant way.
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