And I thought to myself, that's the pay off of the hard work of these early years: grabbing a beer with your son. Becoming peers. Fearing less for his decisions because they are solely his. Enjoying adult conversation. Becoming friends.
I wept over my boys that night. They were sleeping, and I knelt over them and wept.
I cried not for the little milestones along the way, although there will be millions of those. Father/Son Camping Trips. Tyler learning to ride a bike. Baseball teams. Marching band. Grabbing a beer with their dad.
I cried over the magnitude of it all. Of the giant piece they don't have, the pieces they don't even know they are missing.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," I wept over them.
~ ~ ~
"You are the helper of the fatherless."