It’s nice to have our own place, so much more spacious than what we have back home, but right now I feel like this might be the last time I spend the whole of the summer here.
Am I becoming one of those men who run away? Not really. In fact, I’ve been more present than most, working from home throughout the children’s childhood, always near at hand, never far away. If they need me, I am here.
But they’re reaching the age where they feel they need to push us away and, honestly, I almost feel the same. Perhaps in the autumn I will become one of those dads who seeks refuge at the gym. Perhaps I will find a way to be less present.
Our eldest has GCSEs next year and boasts they will have even longer summer holidays. Right now, that thought fills me with dread. I’ve told them what I will do: dispatch them to Istanbul all alone, to spend those weeks with trusted relatives instead.
As for me, I will come for a holiday, but then I will return back home for work, to enjoy a solitary existence. Well, I would if that was fair on my wife, which of course it’s not. That’s just your standard abdication of responsibility, beloved by dads everywhere.
It’s true, most of us would flee raising children if we could. It turned out not to be the pure bliss we imagined it would be. It turns out it’s just incredibly hard: a thankless task that tries us daily. It would be easy to run away, were we not stirred by conscience and responsibility.
But as it is, we signed up for all of this. During those intensive adoption assessments, we were asked at length how we would cope with moments like these. It was all theoretical then, when we were so desperate to start a family. To nearly everything, we said, “Yes, no problem.”
Everyone warned us that parenting was hard. Some warned us that adoption would be even harder. Fifteen years ago, we said we were ready for whatever life could throw at us.
In the period since then, our hair has turned grey, and those optimistic smiles have mostly turned to frowns. We used to be bright idealists; now, we’re mostly worn down, counting the years. Daily, we fail at this thing called parenting. If this our test, we’re destined to flunk it.
I hate what we have become. We’re imperfect believers, that’s for sure. That’s probably what makes it worse. We aspire to be sincere disciples of the path, but daily our behaviour betrays us. We want to be representatives of a merciful way, but instead we reveal ourselves to be compromised pretenders, simply stumbling by.
Yes, it’s very tempting to run away. Right now, the urge to do so is strong. But in the end I know I must hold on to honour those promises once made, both amidst sincere supplications, praying for succour, and before the great and good of the Family Court.
Do the people think that they will be left to say, “We believe” and they will not be tested?
Quran 29:2
Yes, of course these words spring to mind here. They provide both context and comfort, such as I ask myself now: “Will you truly run away?”
Of course not, inshallah.
Last modified: 22 September 2024
