While driving home from work last night, I was thinking about something
from my past and wondering if I should share it with my kids. Now that my parents are gone, I realize that there are lots of times when I have a question about their lives and am sad because there’s just no one to ask.
Every so often when I was growing up, they would tell me something about their own growing up years, and more often than not, I would roll my eyes and wonder, “Why are they telling me this? Who cares?”
Well, now, having had the same impulse last night, I get it. They just wanted me to know them better, to know them (even a little bit) as real people, instead of just mom and dad.
I wonder if this lightbulb moment I’m having is a function of being in the midlife crisis stage of life. It’s nice to have the insight, but it makes me wish that I had cared a little more about , and had shown a little more interest in, what they had to say when they were here.