My mom surprised me this evening with the news that she went out on her own and bought a new car this week.
I was floored.
It’s not like her to do that–in fact, I’m not totally sure that she’s ever bought a car on her own.
But my dad trained her well. He took her with him everytime he bought car, so she regularly had the opportunity to watch him work his mojo on the salesguy.
The conversation with my mom made me miss my dad tonight. He died about 7 years ago. I had one of those moments (they don’t happen so much anymore) when I could hear his voice in my heart, see his face in my mind and remember how much I’m truly missing since he’s no longer around.
The more I think about it, the more I realize how foolish I was as a younger man. Sure, he made mistakes, but too many times I allowed the mistakes to define who he was in my heart. Foolishness.
As a fully functioning adult with my own kids, I now realize what little insight I really had into the man. He was so much deeper than I ever perceived. That I can’t swim in that depth now causes me a little sadness. That I hide my own depth from my kids too often is beginning to cause grief.
We are all people of depth–no matter who we are. And it is within that depth that our core lives–the real us. We hide the core fearful that, once exposed, it will be devalued or abused or made fun of. I can offer no promises that those things won’t happen. But I can promise that a core exposure will begin a nuclear reaction of relationship and life that is truly uncontainable.
Let the world enjoy your core.