To the Girls in my Life

This is really about daughters, Caryn, my wife Peggy, my granddaughters Camie, Sofia, Maicy and Leslie. Daughters are so much different than sons, I know, being a son. Daughters are caregivers, reminding sons that they need to stay in contact with their parents, of worrying over their Dads, taking care of their Mothers, taking care of their own children. Sons, well, more often than not, at least in my family, we tend to put off conversations, contact, telephone call, gifts, etc. I was that way with my Dad and I saw it with him and his family. Maybe it's genetic? At least in my family.

When I think about dying, like I was while not sleeping last night, and I run through my mind things that I should do before I head to the other side, I am saddest when I think of these "girls" in my life. Naturally I worry about my wife, but then again I know Caryn will be there for her. I think about my grandchildren (including Evan, my only boy) and how they are growing and changing, what I do miss in their lives now and what I will miss in the future. As much as I am grounded in accepting death, you can't help but thinking about these things.

Today I was getting ukulele tabs off of the internet, thinking about songs that I would like to learn, looking them up and printing them out. One of them was ABBA's, "Slipping Through My Fingers". Not finding tablature, I went on YouTube and played it. I cried as I sang along, tears just streaming down, voice quivering, my heart so sad. It's not the first time. The lyrics are just so true, and though it's clear it is a Mother singing about her little girl, it effects me as if I were the one singing it.

The other day, Caryn's three wee ones were over spending the day with us after spending the night. We also had our friends visiting us from the Okanogan. Doug is this awesome guitar player and he had been helping/encouraging me on my uke as I played (badly) with him. We came down below where the girls were and I was showing him some ukulele videos on the internet. Camie came over and asked me to play one by Taimane Gardner, "Grandpa", a Judd's cover. With her hanging on my shoulder and Taimane singing, "Grandpa, tell me about the good old days..." I started choking up and my eyes watering. As much as my philosophizing helps me confront and deal with dying on an intellectual plane, our emotional life is also a very real part of us, as it should be.

Men, as part of our make up, our genetics, the role models we have, our society, whatever, as a whole try to keep that part of ourselves in control and, too often, at bay. Still, I think that there is a deep longing and yearning to feel like we can let our emotions out. Certainly not all men; there are those "sensitive" males who are so much better in touch with their feelings, but the majority of us are further up on that sliding scale of "macho". The further up on the scale we are the worse off we probably are.

I think about my close male friends and there are few that, when we are together, enter into that slippery and dangerous swamp of our deepest emotions. I know that there have been so many times that I have wanted to talk about that part of me, but the banter, the avoidance, the shallow base side or the intellectual side of our minds and ego take over. Still, there are those times when I have been able to talk with a male friend and it has felt so good, but it will always stop before one of us loses control.

It seems as if I have gotten away from writing about those "girls" in my life. As I read the lyrics of "Slipping Through My Fingers", a lot of the words speak to losses that I can see in my life, time missed with my Mother, my wife, my daughter and my grandchildren. It hurts.

"ABBA - Slipping Through My Fingers"

Schoolbag in hand, she leaves home in the early morning
Waving goodbye with an absent-minded smile
I watch her go with a surge of that well-known sadness
And I have to sit down for a while
The feeling that I'm losing her forever
And without really entering her world
I'm glad whenever I can share her laughter
That funny little girl

Slipping through my fingers all the time
I try to capture every minute
The feeling in it
Slipping through my fingers all the time
Do I really see what's in her mind
Each time I think I'm close to knowing
She keeps on growing
Slipping through my fingers all the time

Sleep in our eyes, her and me at the breakfast table
Barely awake, I let precious time go by
Then when she's gone there's that odd melancholy feeling
And a sense of guilt I can't deny
What happened to the wonderful adventures?
The places I had planned for us to go?
(slipping through my fingers all the time)
Well, some of that we did, but most we didn't
And why I just dont know

Slipping through my fingers all the time
I try to capture every minute
The feeling in it,
Slipping through my fingers all the time
Do I really see whats in her mind
Each time I think I'm close to knowing
She keeps on growing
Slipping through my fingers all the time

Sometimes I wish that I could freeze the picture
And save it from the funny tricks of time
Slipping through my fingers...

Slipping through my fingers all the time

Schoolbag in hand she leaves home in the early morning
Waving goodbye with an absent-minded smile...