When I first heard this song, I was maybe 12 years old. It resonated with me because I sympathized with a boy whose father never had time for him. I also saw my overworked, depressed single mother in the father's frequent absence and declinations of offers to come play. In the years that followed, whenever I'd hear this song, I read it as a condemnation of the father's warped prioritization of work over his son. The role reversal, when the grown son never has time for his aging father, seemed like justice to me.
Now that I'm an adult with children of my own -- and now that my only parent passed on just as I became a parent myself -- I don't see it that way anymore. Like so many other things in life, experience shifts your perspective. That's not to say that the father from the song is blameless, but where I used to see him exclusively as a villain, that view has shifted to allow for elements of his being a victim too.
Having spent the past 15 years as the primary breadwinner in our family, I know how it feels to juggle wanting to be a present parent, which conflicts with being an employee who's seen by the corporate higher ups as having promising career prospects. Truth be told, I couldn't care less about how people at work perceive me or my prospects for ascending the proverbial corporate ladder, but I DO care about how that perception translates to salary increases, which directly impacts my ability to provide for my family. It's ironic (tragic) that you spend so much time providing for your family to the best of your ability, yet in doing so, you get so little time with them.
My son turned ten just the other day He said, thanks for the ball, Dad, come on, let's play Can you teach me to throw? I said-a, not today I got a lot to do, he said, that's okay And he, he walked away, but his smile never dimmed It said, I'm gonna be like him, yeah You know I'm gonna be like him
One of the lessons that comes through experience is that time moves far faster when you're older than it did when you were younger. As a parent, the days are long, but the years are short. You think you'll have another chance to play catch, or build a fort, or take that camping trip... but then you blink, and they're older, and the interests they had then aren't the same anymore. Now, playing catch is boring, and forts are lame, and a camping trip will cut them off from internet access, so, no.
Childhood is such a short period of time, and the number of opportunities you have to engage with your children while they're children is finite. Once they hit those tween years, they will stop asking you to join them in whatever it is they're doing; their social focus shifts from family to friends. While that's developmentally appropriate for their age, it can be heartbreaking when you realize that your time as the center of their Universe is over. You're still in orbit, but the focus is on people and experiences where you have no control or influence.
Well, he came from college just the other day So much like a man I just had to say Son, I'm proud of you, can you sit for a while? He shook his head, and he said with a smile What I'd really like, Dad, is to borrow the car keys See you later, can I have them please?
I remember being in my early 20s and full of wanderlust, spending as little time at home as possible. I still loved my mother, of course, but there was just so much out there to explore, so many shows to see, so many new people to meet and build lifelong friendships with. I knew she'd always be at home, waiting for me to come back and tell her all about my adventures. I'm grateful that she was, indeed, there for that phase in my life, but not a day goes by that I don't wish she were still here, now. It truly is one of life's cruelest jokes to lose your mother just as you become one yourself, when only then do you truly start to understand her perspective, her experience, her sacrifices, her conflicts, and how hard she worked to do the absolute best for you, even when you were an ungrateful little shit. To be robbed of the opportunity to tell her that you understand now, and to tell her how grateful you are for her, and how much you love her.
There is no justice in things left unsaid; there's only regret over missed opportunities that you didn't recognize, when they were staring you in the face.
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