LETTING GO

Ellen and I were taken by surprise this evening. We have felt some undefined emotion growing the last couple of weeks, but the source wasn't clear. I have been kind of hoping that it is Katie's wedding, which is in less than 48 hours now, because maybe it will lessen when the wedding is over.

Not much more than a decade ago, Katie was learning to ride a two-wheeler. I can still see my Katie-Bug in her favorite outfit: that pink top with both a pink cotton skirt and pink cotton pants underneath, blonde hair flowing over her shoulders. Bicycle balance was coming hard for her, so we decided to take off the training wheels and use the parent system. Ellen and I both spent several evenings with her, holding the bike up and jogging alongside while our Katie-Bug gained her confidence. Our back and legs hurt and we grew tired, but we knew that Katie needed to conquer this skill. So the next night we tried again, bouncing along down the sidewalk, letting go for an instant and then catching her before she toppled. Again the next night, and she would get it for a few feet and then nearly fall. Sometimes I would let go and the bike would take an unexpected sharp turn into the yard, she would stop pedaling and stick out her feet to catch her balance, and we would both nearly topple over. "Don't let go, Daddy!" she would cry. I would catch her and hold the bike upright, and she would start again.

Then suddenly it happened: while running alongside her across the yard, I could sense that the bike was balanced for two full pumps of the pedals. Hesitantly, I let go, jogging alongside, and she was on her own for one, two, three pedal pumps. I slowed and she continued on out to the driveway, and then she was gone! Down the street she rode, all under her own power. Of course, she never looked back. It was the moment of liberation for her. At that moment, I sensed that something important had just happened. This was my goal, this was the job of fatherhood. The moment came without fanfare or preparation. And when the moment came that she no longer needed me, my relief was more than a little mixed with unexpected sadness. Of course I didn't say that to her. I simply cheered, "Yeah, Katie! Go, Katie, go!"

Then came this evening. I told Ellen that for me the feeling is that Katie may be ready to marry, but I am not ready to let go yet. Can I finish being her dad? There's so much more to instill, there are so many more memories to create, there's got to be, doesn't there, more time? It was only 17 years ago that she was just learning to walk, only 11 years ago that I baptized her in the "new" building at Rolling Hills Christian Church, only four years ago we went to a conference together seeking "the burn" for her, only three years ago we were still doing family concerts together, only two years ago that she and Gregg started dating, only a year ago that they were engaged. And now we stand at this sacred threshhold, and I'm not ready. I have to catch my breath, get one last hug, hear her say, "I love you, Daddy" one more time.

Ellen and I were both surprised by the waves of emotion that overwhelmed us. Why didn't someone tell us about this part of parenting? This is the very goal of being a father, to release a child to adulthood, but it is painful. It is awful, and it is wonderful.

I have wondered how it would feel, this letting go, and dreaded the moment. Just give me an extra day. An hour. I promise, I won't take it for granted. But time keeps moving, bringing us closer to the inexorable release. So, once again I'll stay up until Katie faithfully comes home at her curfew (not a minute before), waiting for a few minutes of conversation and one more long embrace. Then that's it.

My children have known I'd be like this. They have made fun of me for years at the way I tear up over every little family thing. That's why Katie won't let me say anything in the ceremony. Just walk her down the aisle, hand her over to her groom, and don't make a fool of myself by blubbering. I don't mind. At least they know I love them.

So, I'm ready for the next step. The day after tomorrow, I'll walk alongside my Katie-Bug one last time, helping her to keep her balance, and when it's time to let go, she won't even look back. And I'll say, "Yeah, Katie! Go, Katie, go!" And she and Gregg will fly like the wind!
-ker