Forced Communications

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Category: Lifestyle/People
Published: Saturday, 26 January 2013 23:48

This article originally published in West Orlando News Online.

For the last four or five months, I have been picking up my daughter and taking her to work every morning, because she was having transportation issues. She needed to be at work by eight o’clock in the morning and worked a ten-hour shift. I would pick her up at her apartment on the north side of Silver Star Rd. and take her to work on the south side of Sand Lake Road, four or five times a week. Sometimes, I would pick her up after work so that she wouldn’t have to ride the bus. Our travel time together was about 30 to 45 minutes depending on traffic. After dropping her off, I would go back home and start my day.

During this travel time, we would talk about many things – politics, the economy, religion, her personal life. Sometimes we would talk about her mother, who died of cancer eleven years ago. We would talk about everything, nothing was off-limits.

 This past Saturday I spent about four hours with her supporting her purchase of a car. While at the dealership we spent some time test driving cars, doing the financing paperwork and talking to insurance companies or just waiting. While this was going on, I had lots of time to think.

I was thinking to myself, how great it was going to be to regain that hour every day and not have to drive her to work. I could sleep; I could read, study and research; I could have that second cup of coffee; I could take my wife to breakfast. There are so many things I could do with this extra hour.

This morning, the first time in over four months that I don’t have to pick her up, I realized that I really miss that time we spent together. I missed that ‘forced’ daily one hour when it was only us, my child and me. I know now, just how precious that time was.

Now, I’m thinking about the tragedy at Sandy Hook Elementary School. I am thinking about the parents of the murdered children. I am thinking about their brothers and sisters and grandparents and cousins. Their pain must be absolutely unbearable and it will continue, for the rest of their lives.

 Me? I called my daughter this morning just to hear her voice and tell her that I love her. I will schedule a ‘forced’ lunch with her every week for the rest of my life. That gained hour every day will be spent with my wife.

I am so thankful that I don’t have to go the gravesite and lay flowers. I am blessed.