A Fight

My son got into a fight at school.  He was suspended for a couple days.  “Boys fight, it’s a part of growing up,” they say.  It’s a part of human nature to fight.  Fighting is conflict.  I saw the fight and I saw two little boys, two humans with the objective of inflicting pain on the other. 

Pain because they are both IN pain and don’t know how to feel secure, confident or powerful.  Trying to find that power in all the wrong ways.  I wondered what his dad saw as he watched his son.   He got to see the whole thing, first hand.  I just heard about it and saw a crude video of it.

  Grant watched it I believe. I’d more accurately like to say I know, that we are allowed to continue to be a part of the lives of the living. Watching them, helping them, seeing the impact of our life on them after we’re gone, especially those who are close to us.  As we continue to exist after death, life continues to exist in spite of death. 

I wondered how it felt for Grant to watch his son, this beautiful boy who was once our small sweet baby boy so innocent. What was it like to see his son express the hurts and behaviors that have been deeply impacted by Grants own choices from life here and what took him out of it.

I imagine he was watching an expression of some of the loss our son feels because of how Grant lived here and because he’s gone.  I couldn’t help but feel the grief he must have felt watching his son act out like this, not being able to do anything about it and knowing that part of it is because of how what he did, impacted his son. 

Human conflict is ever present.  It is in all of us and outside all of us.  As I thought about my son hitting another human, my heart felt heavy.  I watched clips of the video and I saw the anger and aggression in him. 

More presently, I saw the lack of love for humanity and the selfishness that is ever present when all we want to do is what we want, not thinking of how it affects another human.  This isn’t about my son and it isn’t about the fighting.  For me, it's about the concept of humanity.  When another person loses their humanity, they become an object. 

I didn’t see my son seeing this other kid as a person.  From my son’s perspective, this other boy was an object that was inflicting pain on him.   He saw the hurt, felt the hurt and wanted to hurt to make his hurt feel better.  The truth is, that doesn’t work, hurting doesn’t take away hurting, even when it feels good for a few fleeting moments.

 It still all hurts.  What was the saddest part to me, was that my boy didn’t see this boy as a boy, like him; filled with hopes and feelings, disappointments, interests, little things that make him happy, the other things that make him sad. He didn’t see his favorite color or what makes him smile.

He didn’t see where his struggle was or what his joy was. He didn’t see any of it.  It was empty.  The empty I imagine my boy feels in himself.  The lack of feeling seen and known himself.  I see him, I feel him and I want to know him more and better and deeper.  But he hurts and I can’t fix it, so what do I do? 

Do you know?  I don’t.  I wait.  I love him. I hold him.  I talk with him.  I teach him.  Yet he is empty inside and I see that.  I saw it being acted out on another person and that told me something else.  It’s a lot deeper than even I know. 

This is where I see in him, what I see in me and what I see in so many.  It’s not just him, it’s all of us.  We all have that emptiness.  It reminds me that it doesn’t have to be all of what I am or how I feel.  I have that same emptiness, I do, I feel it son.  I don’t want to hurt either. 

I don’t want to keep that feeling inside of me.  That doesn’t make it go away of course, but what it reminds me to do is find the most possible kindness towards others.  To find the most possible joy in every moment.  To connect in the most loving ways with those I love.  To show my hurt and let others love me.  To love others and let them show me their hurt.  

Both outcomes come from some hurts, but they are vastly different in how that plays out in my life and his.  We live in the same house, we eat the same foods, we come together at night and live our lives and yet it’s so different for us. 

Oh how I wish I could give you what I have son.  My perspective, my love, my confidence, my security, all in the same shadow of loss, uncertainty and pain.  But I can’t.  So I’ll wait.  Wait until you’re ready to see it yourself and so have a little better idea of how my Father feels while he waits for me.