Roy Orbison and I

Growing up, one of my favorite vocalists was Roy Orbison. His piercing operatic tenor made unforgettable music. The song “Only the Lonely” has been running through my head lately and will, undoubtedly, begin playing in your head starting now. Instead of the opening line “Only the Lonely,” I’ve been substituting “Only the Guilty.” What?

When our children were young, cuddly and containable, life was filled with house chores, work and childcare. Things were busy, and when I finally had time to breathe, our children were grown. I was devastated, wondering where the time had gone. The guilt lingered for years until my brain kicked in and I remembered a few things. I remembered the definition of stress: the inability to control a situation. How can one control a situation? One finds a reason for the situation. In the effort to control the situation, one can easily construct a false narrative. I was a distracted mother; I could/should have done … Diverting one’s loss with guilt is not helpful and can cause misery for years. Perhaps a look backward can reveal a different version of the story.

Years ago, husband Dan and I were in a conversation with friend and minister Paul Caul. Paul was the long-awaited child of an older couple, and in that couple’s eyes, everything Paul did brought wonder into the world. When it was time for Paul to attend kindergarten, his parents received a call from the school’s principal asking them to come in. What wonderful thing had Paul done that first day? Turns out another child wanted a toy Paul was playing with, and having never heard the word “no,” Paul hit the child!

Learning patience, learning that life happens and people are busy is a concept that is necessary and useful and should not be the focus of parental guilt. I once observed a young math teacher whose wife became unexpectedly pregnant with triplets, a year later unexpectedly pregnant with twins, and then two years later once again had a child, leaving that couple with six baby girls and nobody old enough for school yet. The math teacher was explaining to his students that they needed to pause and think before tackling a math problem and used as an example his six baby girls, who he lined up together and changed one diaper at a time. The girls knew that Dad was busy, but he would see to their needs. They just had to wait. That’s what we all did. We were busy, but we attended to, with love and care, our family’s needs, our career, our lives. Everyone is active, everyone is reflective, and all deserve an understanding hug. Our children are grown, and yes, they don’t live at home, but we still have them, we love them, and through our actions we showed and continue to show them life. Instead of feeling guilt, we recognize the reward of well-rounded adult children, children who know they were loved. With that knowledge, with our continuing reward of our children, we can now all press on with the gift of a life.

Cindy Arp, teacher/librarian, retired from Knox County Schools. She and her husband, Dan, live in Heiskell.