Being A Dad Doesn't Always Feel Like Being A Dad

​One of the hardest things about divorce has been that I don't always get to feel like my boys' dad. Some of that is my own inner-wrestlings. Some of that is simply the ugly nature of divorce; divorce complicates a lot of things, not the least of which is parenting - especially for the parent who has less access to their kids.

But last night, I got to feel like dad. And to be honest, I got reminded that feeling like dad isn't always easy.

Elliott had his first track meet of the season. It was a big one. It was the first one of his senior season. (Another on that growing list of last firsts). And - importantly - it was the first one after missing all of last season with a hamstring injury.

I know he was ready to go.

I arrived early and I was standing along a fence at the edge of the track. I looked up, and Elliott was walking my way. It was if he saw me and wanted to come stand with me. As he's gotten older, the seeking me out and standing with me hasn't been as regular a thing.

It was a thing last night, though. It felt special. And in a way, I felt quite needed, like I was pre-race assurance.

I was standing at the finish line ready to snap pictures of him as he completed his 100 meter dash. My heart raced, excited and nervous as I watched him settle into the starting blocks. Then, the starter's gun went off, the runners took off, but in an instant that stands still, Elliott pulled up.

Grabbing his hamstring.

I recognized the pain on his face. The utter discouragement.

I was a high school junior when I set our school sprint records. I had big dreams for my senior season. But I pulled a hamstring during indoor track that year, then re-tore it during outdoor track. I never came close to being the sprinter I once was. I never came close to senior season dreams come true.

I met Elliott as he hobbled toward the training table. I saw the tears. They were more than physical pain tears. They were inside tears.

When his mom and I separated, we had a conversation with the boys. Elliott cried. Hard. (Ian wanted to get back to his online Madden football game with his buddies - go figure ​😊🤦‍♂️).

Rarely a day goes by that I don't relive Elliott's tears. Time absolutely refuses to do its job of healing me of them. And it's possible I have never felt as unhealed from them as I did holding his inside tears last night after his broken race.

But then a gift. I was the only parent there, so I was the only parent who could take care of him. I got to feel like dad.

I drove him home. I got to commiserate with him, tell him that I didn't totally understand how hard it was, but that I sort of did. I told him how my heart broke when I saw him pull up in his race, when I saw his face, because I have had that very face before.

Nothing feels harder than seeing what you know is a deepest kind of disappointed when you are seeing it on the face of your son.

Sometimes feeling like dad is really hard.

But through it all, start to finish, I felt like Elliott was glad that I was there. It is my deepest hope to have sons who will ALWAYS feel like they are glad that I am there.

I suppose like a dad, being a son doesn't always feel like being a son. But last night, we were father and son, and I really feel like we both felt that way.

That is a gift, one I know that not everyone gets.

So I thank you God; I thank you for giving it to me.