I picked up a book, Out of the Canyon, and it's a tough read, for a father of two boys. Here's an amazing blog about it, and here's the cover:
I've often driven the stretch of road the authors, Art and Allison Daily, describe in the first chapter, back in 95' when, as newlyweds, Sloan and I spent a summer with my brother and sister-in-law where they lived in Vail, just a few miles East on I-70 from where Art Daily's accident had just happened that very February; thankfully, I've not driven the metaphorical road that the book chronicles. But make no mistake -- we are all on that same journey. It makes me grateful for every blessing, in this life and the next. Especially my family, my wife, Sloan, and my two small boys, all of them so overflowing with joy and life and promise.
Personalizing Art Daily's tragedy isn't enough, though. It's true that being a loving father of two wonderful little boys makes it easy to visualize while reading (in a brave, first-person voice) about, with dread and sadness, his loss. It's true that this vicarious experience stimulates real emotion, and a sincere empathy. It's untrue that I can really grasp his own feelings, or the depth of his sorrow. I'm just so sorry that such a thing happened, and all that I can really do is live life as he would have if given the opportunity to trade places, and love my boys.
Personalizing Art Daily's tragedy isn't enough, though. It's true that being a loving father of two wonderful little boys makes it easy to visualize while reading (in a brave, first-person voice) about, with dread and sadness, his loss. It's true that this vicarious experience stimulates real emotion, and a sincere empathy. It's untrue that I can really grasp his own feelings, or the depth of his sorrow. I'm just so sorry that such a thing happened, and all that I can really do is live life as he would have if given the opportunity to trade places, and love my boys.
Almost a year ago, as I was first felling trees, I wrote about the many reasons a busy professional man with lots of chores, priorities, hobbies, and other demands on his time might build a cabin with hand tools and sweat. I came up with many rationalizations, but one sentence always feels legitimate: "Now, with 2 small boys, it's easy to find the motivation to create a playground out of our mountain property. They'll love having a cabin. Wouldn't anyone?"
I hope so. I hope the cabin's a metaphor too: more than a place my boys will play, something their daddy built, a memory, a childhood. The cabin's just a structure, but these moments are precious.
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