Field of Dreams

A few months back, I got candid about some of the struggles I was having with losing dad at Christmas. I felt it was important to be honest about the ups and downs of grief. But, today, I want to share the flip side to the lowest of lows. The highest of highs.

My 7-year old is excited about baseball, which means I’m excited about baseball. I’m pitching in where I can with a series of other dedicated parents to coach. On a side note, kudos to every coach who attempts to teach boys in Little League because wow, there’s something to be said about 17 high energy children throwing balls and swinging bats around you. I digress, though.

This week, Jake wanted to play catch. Dad had a meeting which meant for just a moment, I was the cool parent. Prior to heading out, I reminded Jake that I once played Little League. I even showed off my team portraits and our championship trophy circa 1989. He won’t admit it, but I think he was impressed.

Afterwards, we headed outside with gloves and ball in-hand. Maybe it was the gorgeous weather… the signs of spring literally sprouting around us… or, the pileated woodpecker pecking above my son’s head. But, I was immediately taken back to a similar scene 35-years ago. A time when I would beg my dad to head outside and play catch with me. The answer, no matter how tired he was, was always yes.

Back and forth the ball went. I made Jake practice his pop-ups and grounders. He worked on pitching. The nonstop chatter only disrupted by the snap of the ball in my glove. I found myself wanting to capture and savor every second of this exchange while also reminiscing over how I’ve come full circle. I won’t get too cliché here but when folks talk about how meaningful moments are sometimes the simplest of moments – this was it.

The past few months, I’ve been really struggling with how to pay tribute to dad – asking myself how do I keep his legacy alive while also not dwelling in his loss? How to not rush past the pain but to also recognize that life goes on. And that’s actually ok.

This isn’t a post about faith. It is a post about family. But, sometimes the two are blurred. And in this moment, I can’t help but think dad was with me coaching me as I coached Jake.

I’ll certainly play catch with Jake again. I’ll certainly watch him surpass my skills and grow up to be his own person. But, I know he’ll do that without me imparting just a little bit of my dad in him first… and the circle of life continues.

In this moment, I couldn’t be happier.


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