Father Time is Undefeated

Ecclesiastes 3

1 To everything there is a season,
A time for every purpose under heaven:

2 A time to be born,
And a time to die;
A time to plant,
And a time to pluck what is planted;
3 A time to kill,
And a time to heal;
A time to break down,
And a time to build up;
4 A time to weep,
And a time to laugh;
A time to mourn,
And a time to dance;
5 A time to cast away stones,
And a time to gather stones;
A time to embrace,
And a time to refrain from embracing;
6 A time to gain,
And a time to lose;
A time to keep,
And a time to throw away;
7 A time to tear,
And a time to sew;
A time to keep silence,
And a time to speak;
8 A time to love,
And a time to hate;
A time of war,
And a time of peace.

When I am going through a tough time, I tend to look forward to getting out of that season as soon as possible. No one enjoys the tough periods nor want them to stick around, right? On the other hand, if I find myself enjoying a particular season, I desperately want that time to slow down, to come to a pause even, so that I can savor the fleeting moment for one second longer.

Such was the past 18 months. I never realized I could derive so much purpose, meaning and happiness from my child’s life. It isn’t to say that I didn’t have a purpose, meaning or happiness before; the two are just incomparable. It is an entirely different sense of accomplishment when examined side by side.

For the past 18 months, I’ve lived life in Sports Mode. Because of me and my wife’s work arrangement, I’ve had the morning shift to babysit my son while she works from home. Afternoon till late I work at my job while she babysits him. After coming home from work, I work on my YouTube stuff till twilight. It sounds and is tiring, but the sense of fulfilment from a productive day literally everyday kept me going. Seeing my YouTube channel, and the startup that I partly founded, grow were good and all, but those surprisingly aren’t what made it worthwhile. Me of the past would have my chest puffed up and happy to let others know what a good job I’ve done the past year. But the most joy I get each day is literally watching my son go about his day and me getting to spend hours with him.

Mornings were one of two things. One, I would be too tired to lift myself up in the morning because I had worked extra hard the night before. We would then stay home and play with his toys, with me every now and then dozing off in the middle. He would then either scream for me to wake up or sit on my chest and bounce, quite literally, to get me awake. Two, are morning walks with my boy on days that I felt energetic. We would spend an hour, an hour and a half, at the playground. We would look at strange, painted circles on the ground, jump on them as a rite of passage. We would point to worms and say “uhhhmmm” because they left holes on the leaves in the bushes and trees. We would look up at the sky and shield our eyes because the sun was too bright to stare at. We would look at people walking their dogs and point at them, yet not go near them because he would be scared and I would be too, not knowing a beast’s reaction to a hyper enthusiastic boy. We would sit and observe kindergarten kids have their classes and walks too. We would wave (and he would point) at random people who pass us by. We would say “Hi” to the few kids unenthusiastically and greet their parents at the playground. He would want to be carried, at times, to touch the leaves in the trees high above him. He would want to be let down at other times, to walk his own way.

And at the turn of 2024, my boy will be heading to school for the first time. (Well.. Not school school, more like playgroup for pre-kindergarten kids.) The little boy has gotten a lil’ bigger than what I remember. He can reach the electrical sockets above him on the walls now. He can climb up and down the stair and couch, which were insurmountable before. He can finally call out “Mama” and “Papa” confidently, utter baby gibberish sometimes and intelligent words most times. He would cheekily, and sometimes defiantly, throw toys and other things around for the sake of it. He would at other times look at us apologetically and stop his behavior. This lil’ boy is going to school. And I am sad.

Some parents would be happy at their newfound freedom after sending their kids to school. Maybe I would be too. Most parents would be worried because they have no idea how their baby will be received at school by their teachers and peers. It is after all a new environment and a kid will need some time getting used to. Will they be spoilt? Will they be bullied? Will they be fed well? Will they sleep well? Will they get along with other kids? But not me, at least not for now. I’m not worried about these things and they aren’t why I’m sad. I thought long and hard to pinpoint what I was sad at or about. Was I sad upon thinking that I will miss my boy’s presence? Was I thinking that he will be sad at my absence? Those aren’t it. And then it hit me.

I’m sad, heartbroken even, that I won’t get to be beside him, watching him take those huge leaps daily.

It’s not that I won’t spend time with him at home whenever I can. It’s not that I will focus on my work more from now instead of him. It’s not that I won’t be beside him. It’s that neither I nor my wife will be there when he first learns something new. It’s an indescribable feeling when you see someone take a huge step forward. We were there for his first cry. We were there when we learnt how to breastfeed as a family. We were there when he did tummy time. We were there when he started to crawl in circles. We were there when he spoke his first words. We were there not just for him, we were with him. And for the first time in my and his life, he needs and eventually will take steps without us. My lil boy is growing up without us. And I felt sad about that. And it make me wonder if this was how my parents felt too.

At one point or another, I knew I had to let go. I needed to let go, for his good, to get him on his own two feet and fend for himself. At some point he needs to pick things up independently. He needs to pick himself up independently. He needs to learn how to choose the right company to grow up with, to live life with. He needs to be let go, for him to find his own way and calling in life, in God most importantly. He needs to be let go so that he can surpass everything that I can ever hope to do and accomplish in life. And I need to let go, so that I may flourish in the things that God has spoken to me to do. I need to let go, so that I too can grow.

I just wish that time can slow, so that I can enjoy more time with my boy. I wish that this moment in time can be frozen so that I can relive it over and over.

I saw this line from Modern Family on social media reels/shorts one day.

You know, it's... the thing about babies, you... you fall in love with a baby with the cutest little fat folds, and then... bam... they're gone. But it's okay, because in its place is this... toddler with the greatest laugh on Earth. And then one day, the toddler's gone, and in its place, a little kid that asks the most interesting questions you've ever heard. And this keeps going on like that, but you never get the chance to miss any of them, 'cause there's always a new kid to take the place of the old. Until they grow up. And then... in a moment, all those kids you fell in love with walk out the door at the same time.

"You never know the last time you pick up your kid."

And I heard a anecdote and analogy talked about over the podcast “Diary of a CEO”, where they talked about cherishing time. Imagine there was an hourglass for a minute, an hour, a day, or whatever. It signifies your time in life, your time in your career, or something significant and important that you view in life. Sand is trickling through it every second and we know to seize the time that passes. Carpe Diem never rang truer. But what if the top of the hourglass is taped over, to not let you see how much time you have left? People, and sometimes I too, live life as if we live forever. And that cannot be further away from the truth.

And these are reminders that tell me to cherish the moment while I still can. But more than that, it is to slow down and breathe. In fact, for the past 18 months, I have been very consciously slowing down and taking in every moment. And I believe that contributed to even more sadness because I understood the preciousness of each fleeting moment. And that is a good thing.

What I do not let die, do not find new life.

If I don’t choose to let go of these good moments, I will turn into a grumpy old man someday thinking back about the good glorious days. I won’t be able to exchange them for even greater moments if I keep holding onto these good times.

My boy is growing up and I need to too.