I stared at the words for a long time.
They are towards the end of the first chapter of Michael Connelly’s thriller A darkness more than night. The twists and turns in Connelly’s work are gripping, but I like his books the most for the depth of the characters in his stories. Maybe it’s because I identify myself a lot in their cynicism, mistrust and solitude.
“It’s like having a gun to your head all the time,” one of the characters, a former FBI agent, said in that first chapter. “Because I know if anything ever happens to her, anything, then my life is over.”
He was referring to his daughter.
I kept staring at the words because they are so true. I have two children, and I too realised that I’ve had that gun to my head from day one. And seeing that my parents still care and worry about me, I know I will have that gun to my head right till the end. I’m sure they’ve had theirs since the day I was born too.
Parenthood is a lifelong sentence. It is a 24-hour job, seven days a week. No weekends, no holidays. All those who have children know what I mean. My marriage did not change my life; but becoming a father turned it upside down. The amount of sacrifices knows no bounds; the selflessness needed is a cross parents have to bear till their last breath.
Today’s fears, now that they are both teenagers, are different from the fears at the time they were toddlers or at primary school. When they were much younger, their frequent illnesses – like any children – were a constant worry and God knows how many nights my wife and I took turns staying awake to check on them.
I still vividly remember the time when my son, then 11 months old, had a fever convulsion and turned blue in seconds. Luckily, a doctor happened to be out on the road as I rushed out of the house and he attended to him before the ambulance arrived. I still get the shivers when I think about that fateful 9 June, 1996.
Or when, on another night, I held my daughter in the bath-tub as my wife constantly kept the water running on my daughter’s forehead to keep her temperature down, with her hair drying up the instant we turned off the tap to see whether our method was working. It took two hours to get the fever under control.
These may be little things to other parents who have gone through much worse, and probably are still going through more difficult times. My heart goes out to them because I know what it means to see your child helpless. I thank my lucky stars that the toughest moments, in terms of health, were the instances I mentioned. But I write them because they remain imprinted in my memory as if they happened yesterday.
Today’s fears, as I was saying, are different. Today I worry about their education, and whether they will make it in life. Soon enough, I will spend sleepless nights again, waiting for the noise of the key turning in the lock as they return from a night out. Today I worry about their happiness, whether they will get a well-paid job they enjoy doing, whether they will find the partner of their dreams, or live happily on their own.
And I worry about whether they will survive the onslaught of the many temptations that exist. I would like them to enjoy life as much as they can, but I am concerned that today it is easy to fall into a trap. Drugs is one the examples that quickly comes to mind.
Life revolves around them. Maybe this is the fault of modern parents. Maybe we tend to be too over-protective. Or maybe we have come to realise that the evils of this world are too common and widespread.
Today’s youngsters are probably less innocent than we’d like to think they are, but we do our best to keep them away from erratic behaviour and, by so doing, keep our conscience clear.
I know I can’t keep my children with me forever. Just as much as I wanted my independence, I know they will soon want theirs. Until they leave, I’m working to instil in them a sense of duty, of what is right and responsibility. Whether I succeed or not, only time will tell.
All I know is that, these days, it is so much fun to be with them. They’re at the age when their interest in matters that concern adults is creeping up, particularly my son’s, who is doing his ‘O’ levels. It gives me great pleasure when he watches the news with me and is engrossed with what is happening in Libya or in Japan, or I see him follow documentaries on Discovery.
Of course, he’s intelligent enough to support Milan too, and you can imagine what we did yesterday week when they handsomely won 3-0 in the city derby. Neither of us expresses affection in a manifest way, and we were both surprised to find ourselves hugging each other after each of the three goals. Three hugs are many hugs by our standards – normally it’s our yearly average.
Just in case you’re wondering, no, the hugs were not repeated last Tuesday when Inter lost against Schalke. A simple “gimme five” was enough to celebrate.
My daughter amply makes up for my son’s taciturnity, and she’s the one who dominates the discussion at the table, or when we’re out together. It is easy to read her mood, and I always know what her day has been like with a simple glance at her when I pick her up from school. Her eyes light up when she speaks with enthusiasm, but they’re sad when she’s had a bad day. Just like me.
You see, I get carried away quickly when I start writing about them. Naturally, they do make me angry at times, especially when I do not think they are doing enough at school. Knowing the great opportunities they have ahead of them – far more than there were in my time when I was their age – it would be a real pity if they miss the bus.
A parent’s worst nightmare is the loss of a child and, a notch below, any other trouble they might encounter, in whatever form it may take.
“Because I know if anything ever happens to her, anything, then my life is over,” that former FBI agent said.
“It’s like having a gun to your head all the time.”
With a finger on the trigger.
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