Father and Son

It’s a dreadful day when you finally realize that your father is human, that the pillar of strength and discipline, that paragon of everything safe and good in the world is just as scared as you are, when you realize that he is just as flawed as us all.

It’s a terrible moment when you finally beat him at one-on-one and you know by the look in his eyes and the sweat dripping from his brow as you sink that last jump shot that this time he didn’t let you win. It suddenly hits you that you are too fast, too strong, too skilled, too young (and maybe not young enough). And maybe there is a triumph in that moment, a gloating, but that grin soon falls from your face. You know that the days of throwing a Nerf football in the front yard are gone, the days when a tackle meant being picked up in a giant bear hug. You can see it all in his eyes and the heaving of his chest, that strange mixture of pride and defeat that must come when your progeny eclipse you.

It’s a horrible feeling when you realize that your father can no longer help you with your math homework, that you’re a better speller than he, that you have a better grasp of astronomy and history and philosophy and Heisenberg’s uncertainty principle, that you can beat him at Jeopardy without trying. And maybe some of it is just forgetfulness, and maybe some of it is technological and scientific advances, but you don’t think of that at the time. It just hits you like a dull thud.

The transformation in your relationship is not a sudden thing, it’s gradual, just as growing up is, but when you finally make that realization that he is human, it is the beginning of the end of the world as it once was. You begin to see his flaws in you instead of all the good and maybe you don’t want to be just like him anymore, maybe you want to strive to be better, strive to overcome those flaws. Maybe that’s natural and necessary, and maybe it doesn’t matter so much whether you succeed or not. It’s the mother bird pushing her babies from the nest and hoping that they fly. It is a jolt when the big picture appears to you, though, that you are your own person now, that nothing is tying you down anymore. You stand with him on a little cliff overlooking Lake Huron and stare out into the water, stealing yourself. You tell him he’s being an idiot, that he’s not thinking and the reason he’s arguing with your mother and that he made a scene is not because he’s upset with her, or you, but he’s stressed from work. It’s quite possibly the hardest thing you have ever done in your life, to confront him damned the consequences, but you succeed, you embrace and your world is turned upside down, is opened up. Maybe we all need that eye-opening jolt of realism to know who we truly are, but that knowledge never comes at the time. You just feel alone, and defeated in the moment of your greatest triumph. You feel lost and confused

And slowly you realize that he is no longer your boss, the King of the castle, but a cog in the unit that is your family. You realize that the two of you are equals, compatriots. He stops telling you what is right and you begin discussing things… there aren’t anymore time outs, or yelling, even when you do something boneheaded like flip his van over three times and almost kill yourself. He knows that you’re a smart kid (or maybe adult?), that you’re not going to make the save idiotic mistake again, he trusts you…

It’s a nice feeling, but one with immense consequences, because you no longer have that safety net. Sure, your parents are there for you, but you know that it is time for you to set out on your own, to make your own decisions, to make your own mistakes, to have your own victories. It is that old universal truth that freedom and safety are polar opposites. You are free from the nest, but not longer secure, and it is terrifying and terrifyingly exciting at the same time.