I’ve long since retired, my son’s moved away
I called him up just the other day
I said, “I’d like to see you if you don’t mind”
He said, “I’d love to, Dad, if I can find the time
You see my new job’s a hassle and kids have the flu
But it’s sure nice talking to you, Dad
It’s been sure nice talking to you”
And as I hung up the phone it occurred to me
He’d grown up just like me
My boy was just like me
- From “Cat’s in the Cradle” by Harry Chapin
I thought for quite a while before deciding to pen this entry down. If the song is familiar to you, you’d probably know why.
The song describes the relationship between a father and a son. To put it very succintly, the boy starts out, like all young children i would think, desiring and pining after his father’s presence and attention. The father, however, is always too preoccupied with work. The tables are turned when the father, in his dotage, is desirous of his son’s companionship but is instead rebuffed with the very same reasons that he gave his son all those years back. It seems that his son had indeed become just like him.
The tone of the song is one of poignancy. A distinct sense of regret and pained realisation permeates the words, coming as it is from the father’s perspective.
I first heard the song when i was in secondary school. That version was a cover of the original by Ugly Kid Joe. But it was only later that i realised how much i could identify with the persona of the son in the song. The memories of my childhood and teenage years are one of being left in the lurch, missing friends’ birthday parties, football matches or just my parents, in favour of weekends at the golf course or nights at the office.
All that time has really been lost.
Nothing will ever make up for it.
Even now, whenever my parents begin to speak to me, a palpable angst and hostility rises up within and an automatic reflex to leave the room sets in.
I’ve examined my emotions at these times. There’s no anger. Just grief and the rusty piquancy of a relationship rent by the absence of time spent together.
And this got me thinking about what the Apostle John wrote in his first epistle,
“…for he who does not love his brother whom he has seen cannot love God whom he has not seen.”
Can i truly love my Father in heaven when i feel such a lack of love for my earthly father and mother ?
Yet it is precisely such a lack of affection and time spent with my parents that drove me into the arms of my Father in the first place.
I realise how angsty this entry must sound but i guess this issue will continue to be a source of sorrow and grave pondering for years to come. Even now, my spirit cries, “What must be done? What can be done?”
And the familiar refrain is heard.
I know the answer, Abba.
I will continue to honour my father and my mother.
I will continue to seek Your grace and power in loving them .
I will continue to be comforted by Your immeasurable, unfailing and perfect love.
The Cross reminds me as ever.
Thank You, that always, there is the Cross.
