Grey Area

I went grey in my early thirties and the fact that I still have hair on my head is astounding.

Sunday marks the second and final wedding of the year; both of my children are embarking upon the next phase of their life’s journey this year, and I will be there to witness the sendoff.

It’s not every day that a dad gets to participate in his son’s wedding. Wild horses could not have kept me from walking my daughter down the aisle, and during this wedding I am honored to stand by my son as his best man. To make it a little bit about me, I get to see my daughter walk down the aisle again as a bridesmaid and see her new husband in the front row. I get to walk my mother down the aisle for the second time, then do a lap to walk the maid of honor safely to her perch as I did with my daughter as a bride four months ago.

And I get to be the calm presence beside my son, as I have been his entire life

There’s nothing like participating in a wedding, surrounded by youth, to remind a man of his own age.

I am not resigned to getting older, but rather, I am embracing it. I am not old, I am experienced. I am not over the hill, I am doing hill repeats. The adults these children have grown to be is a reflection of the best parts of myself which have trickled down to settle in their character – parts of me I wasn’t always aware existed.

Yes, the family has grown, and in the best of ways. For this, I am happy.

But at the end of the day I return to an empty home populated only by dreams and desires.

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