cats in the cradle

My father was a conflicted soul. An emotional man who cared intensely for his family, he was raised by stoic parents who rarely, if ever, expressed affection for each other or their children. Despite this, and the battle of wills and words of their Irish/Italian marriage, he knew his parents loved each other and their children. But those stifled emotions stayed with him and passed on to our family. Of course we loved each other, but we lacked the courage to express it. 

Now, in my adult life, my mother and I end every call with "I love you." It doesn't feel right if it isn't said. I say it to my wife and sons all the time. They probably get a little sick of it. Truthfully, my sons are the ones who taught me to be more open, and it is not so difficult now. But my father and I always had a much harder time. Since his diagnosis of pancreatic cancer two years ago, I made an attempt to change that. When the timing seemed right, and I wasn't feeling awkward, I would tell him I loved him. His response: "yeah." I could tell it hurt.

Back in my young adult life, when I would leave to go out with friends or back to school, my father started saying "cats in the cradle." I would say it back. It was a reference to the Harry Chapin song about a father and son who never seemed to have time for each other. The older I became, the more I understood the song. My dad and I had a good relationship and would see each other often, but never as much as we would have liked. Something always seemed to interfere, or perhaps that is just a bad excuse. The song was about us, as it must seem to many fathers and sons. 

A few weeks ago, we were both having a rough time with our treatments. I talked to him on the phone and ended our conversation with "I love you, Dad." His response was "I love you too, Mike." Finally, he said the words. I didn't realize that it was the last time he would say them to me.

My father passed away on Monday, August 3rd at 11:42 p.m. He went quietly in his sleep with his family around him to tell him goodbye. I am glad I was there. Since then, I have been thinking about what regrets I have, and there are a few. The one that always worried me most was saying the words before we ran out of time. We finally did, but how could we have gone for so long and not tell each other how we felt?

Then it occurred to me that he had told me, many times. I had always considered "cats in the cradle" to be silly. To me it was a way to avoid conveying how he felt. But now I see those words expressed so much for him. When he said it, he may as well have been singing the entire song. He identified with every word. And he was saying "I love you."

Cats in the cradle, Dad.