Mr. Jones,
It’s Sunday night for me…it’s snowing and it’s been a very sad weekend. The Bulldogs have fallen short of their quest for a state title. We are 13 hours ahead of you here in Korea which translates to an early and painful Saturday morning for me. It’s early because I too can be very superstitious. (smile) I get up between 5:00 and 6:30am so that I can call my son Alex. Sometimes he answers…sometimes I leave a message, but I do it to leave a message telling him I’m proud of him, I love him and to do his thing. Normally by the time the game is over, I’m at the gym playing racquetball with friends. This makes it a lil easier to hold on until I know the game is over and Alex will be able to tell me how things went. I normally let out a holler at which many heads turn to see who the crazy guy jumping up and down is.
I woke up early Saturday and grabbed my cell to make my Friday afternoon call. I spoke to him and even said a few extra words of encouragement and hung up smiling. But this Saturday was a lil different. It was a semi-final game taking place in Bulldog stadium and I was unable to play racquetball to help take my mind off waiting. Friday morning I had sprained my ankle running PT, so after my call…all I could do was sit in my lazyboy…staring at the clock. Staring at the clock and watching the minutes tick off. “The game should be starting…they should be in the second quarter…half time…game should be done and he’s in the lockeroom”, sitting there just waiting, waiting and waiting. God it’s painful
You’d think I was playing and it only got worse as I looked and saw that it was time to call. My hand shaking I dialed his cell. Then I heard him say hello…my heart sank. He’s my son you see and a Dad knows…a Dad knows. But I had to ask anyway. “How’d you guys do?”, I said. I could hear his voice quiver and those two words, the ones I have been dreading to hear for over 12 weeks when I make that call, “We lost.”
My heart sank and I fell into my lazyboy. I quickly told him I was proud, I loved him and I’d call him Sunday evening like I have done all season to talk about the preceding Friday’s game. I knew he was starting to cry and I needed to get off the phone. For him…but for me too. I had tears already streaming down my face; tears of joy and sadness. Joy because I’m so very proud of him and his teammates and sad ones, because I was not there. I wasn’t there to hug him and tell him I proud after that so very hurtful loss. I remember last year going down on the field after the loss to Bowling Green and the look in his face as I hugged him as did his lil brothers. The ride home was quiet, we stopped by McD’s as we always did and once home he went to his room where I just let him be.
There would be no hug from Dad this past Friday, just a phone call from half a world away. And when I read your piece about him sitting on the stairs in the stadium alone…God that stung and the tears streamed once again. I could see him sitting there with his hands in his head, wondering if he could have done something more…anything. I tell myself if I was there…and then I think, I’m not and it hurts that much more. I’ll call him in the morning after PT like I always do. It’ll be Sunday evening like it has been all season. But there will be no talk of football. We’ll talk about school and the weather and anything else but. I’ll hang up and I always do after telling him I love him and how proud I am. Then I’ll head off to work.
Mr. Jones, I wrote all this to say…thank you. Thank you for covering my son’s games this past season. Thank you for keeping a Dad that’s so far away…just a lil bit closer for just a little while. Sometimes we go through our days wondering why we do what we do and do we make a difference. Well Mr. Jones you made a difference for me this past season. I sent every article to friends and family all season. I’ll do the same tonight before I go to bed. But I just needed to say thank you and let you know what your pieces have meant to me these past months. So again Mr. Jones…Thank You.
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