I have a horrible memory. I don’t know how one would objectively measure or quantify that to prove it to be true. Whenever I encounter those card games where you have to flip a card and then flip another and if you find it’s a match you can remove the pair I generally just flip the cards as fast as possible and hope for the best. I don’t know if that’s a good barometer, but it affirms what I already feel about my memory every single time.
On the other hand some days I just feel I have a selective memory. This has been the basis of my defense with the wife for as long as I can remember. Whenever we inevitably have a conversation that all husbands and wives have, it plays out something like “ Wife: I told you about [insert friend or family function] two weeks ago. Husband: (stares blankly for 3.7 seconds) I don’t remember. What/when/why/where is it again?”1 We still end up going of course, just on short notice in my mind. Of course, this is not a big deal, it’s now just a running joke that’s a part of our relationship. I once even started taking a supplement specifically to boost memory recall abilities. That lasted until I unsurprisingly forgot to actually take the supplement daily.
When it comes to my experiences as a father, it feels like they are a blur and at a standstill at the same time. Warp speed example: son #1 is already 11, turning 12 in another 6 months. It’s insane to think I’ve been a father for over a decade. I was someone’s dad in my twenties! Standstill example: I will admit that I’m watching the clock waiting for son #2 to get past this “meltdown for who knows what it’ll be today” phase CANNOT COME SOON ENOUGH! Working a job for eight to nine hours that involves dealing with and managing people can be taxing in different ways. But most days, it’s just the warm up for dealing with a four-year-old baby boss. The ups and downs aside, I’d sign up to do it again ten out of ten times. I wouldn’t trade what fatherhood has taught me and molded me into for anything.
As time flies by and my memory fails me, I use tools to trigger trips down memory lane. My favorite is the photos widget on my iPhone. It refreshes every few days with a new group of featured photos that it rotates. At the time of writing this, they include pictures of my grandmother, who passed away a few years ago, my wife and I on a catamaran in Cancun the day after our wedding, surrounded by friends and family having a literal blast, son #1 six years ago on this date posing with a Voltron action figure in a messy bedroom with furniture that’s long gone, and my wife and I with the new World Trade Center in NYC while she was pregnant with son #1. Those are just a few, but there are more photos in rotation!
It would be impossible to say what my most cherished memory is up to this point. However, one that stands out is son #1’s preschool graduation2. I was a puddle. You know how they say before you die, your life flashes before your eyes? I had the opposite experience, seeing him so young in that cap and gown, but it was his life. I saw his potential for greatness combined with my unconditional love for him. At that moment, I felt all his life could be and all the potential obstacles and hurdles he may have to overcome. I’ve never felt the desire to pour every ounce of myself, all that I am, all that I wish I was, every single lesson learned into someone else the way I felt it during that ceremony. It’s odd because, as a parent, it’s hard to see our children as something other than fragile or vulnerable. It’s our natural paternal instincts, of course. Up to a certain age, they are quite literally that, and then at another age, they can be both in other less literal ways. At that moment, I wanted to not only shield him but also equip him. Ultimately that’s all we can do.
There was a video clip on social media a few years ago of a black father dropping his son off to move into his dorm room at college for his freshman year. Their initial goodbye was to be expected of two men, the classic bro hug. As the moment set in, the father became very emotional and eventually broke down in tears while embracing his son. He finally left him with the words, “I love you, make good choices.” I can’t wait to make that one of my most cherished memories with my sons one day.
- While this is MOSTLY how it plays out. The wife has weaponized my poor track record when it comes to this to get away with claiming she told me about things I’d bet it all to prove she didn’t like on those Progressive insurance commercials where people throw a challenge flag to review a previous conversation. One word – AQUAFARI. [↩]
- Shout out to Ms. Tesia! She spent more time with both my sons than anyone else on Earth outside of the wife and I. [↩]
