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Tony's Diary Entries Diary Navigation: Choose A Diary Entry -------------------- Latest Entry: 11/16/00 -------------------- 11/1/00 10/19/00 -------------------- Tony's Introduction

November 1, 2000

Have you ever loved something so much, it made you afraid? Have you ever had someone love you equally as much? It scares the hell out of me when I think about this kind of love and yet I am faced with it every day. And even when I’m away, it is in the back of mind -- always.

I had a cockatiel once. I named it “Pud.” It was the goofiest bird. The pet store attendant said it was too old to be tamed, but week after week, I would go up to the cage and talk to it incessantly, making clicking and kissing noises. After six months, Pud was out of the cage and wherever I was, she was. She ate dinner with me at the kitchen table. She sampled everyone’s food. When I came home from work, she would fly to my shoulder. She would preen my ears, my nose and whatever got stuck between my teeth. The family thought it was disgusting. I knew it was love. The kind of love that you don’t deserve, but which is given to you freely. The kind of love that can -- by fate -- be taken away in a moment.

I lost Pud after only a year. She was killed by a dog we had “rescued” from the pound, only to learn later that it was aggressive toward other animals.

My son Josh gives me this kind of unconditional love. When I pee, he pees. The way I pee, is the way he pees. If I’m in grungy grinders, he’s in grungy grinders. If I have a hat on, he has a hat on. If I’m hungry, he’s hungry. If I take my shirt off, his shirt is off. If I say “Girls are crazy.” He says, “Girls are crazy.” He hangs on my every word. It’s amazing to me. I still don’t know what I did right in my life to deserve such love. And he trusts me with everything. Unconditionally!

I read a story once about a father who worked all the time. (This was me up until two and a half years ago.) This father never saw his son and his son was very, very sad. One night, after his father came home late, the boy asked him how much money he makes an hour. The father was extremely irate at the question and sent the boy, who was in tears, to his room. After awhile, the father checked on the boy, feeling bad for having lost his temper. He told his son that he made $20 an hour. The boy asked if he could borrow $10. The father again became irate and left, slamming the bedroom door shut behind him. Hours went by and the father, once again, returned to the room and found the boy weeping on his pillow. He sat down at the foot of the bed and asked his son, “Why did you want to borrow $10?” And the son replied, “I have saved for weeks and weeks and have about $10 saved. If I could borrow $10 from you, that means I could buy an hour of your time to be with me.”

It’s taken many years to adjust my life so I can spend time with my children. It hasn’t been easy making this adjustment at midlife, but I thank God every day that I now have the time to be with my son to give and receive that kind of unselfish love.

I was the father who was never home and I missed some opportunities with my older girls. So, I guess this is my last chance at being a great parent.

Life is fragile. It always hangs in the balance. In a heartbeat, it’s over. The quality of life is measured by what we do in the NOW. Not what we will do later. I love my son more that life itself. I can only hope I can live up to a mere sliver of his expectations. After all, he is already and has been living up to mine.

Tony