My Father’s Son

He stands for a moment sizing up the batter, then the windup and release, with every bit the form and beauty of a professional baseball player.

Last week we went to a baseball game. My grandson Michael was pitching. He is now thirteen and already an amazing athlete. He can literally throw a ball faster and farther than many of the boys on his team can hit it. 

As we sat there listening to the sound of his classmates and parents in the stands calling out his name. “Go Mike! You can do it Mike”; a strange realization struck me as if echoing back through time. Michael was my dad’s last name, but everyone, even my mom, called him “Mike”.

Now, I was suddenly hearing that name again, but this time, it wasn’t my dad, it was his great grandson. As I sat there I felt a warm sensation come over me as if I could feel my dad sitting there with us. Watching his great grandson pitching.

It’s true…the people we love are never really gone, even when they leave this world. They are still here, not just in our hearts and our memories, but physically here... with us. 

In this wonderful world of magnificent design, our parents are part of us, just as we are part of our children. We carry them deep inside, both physically as well as spiritually. My dad lives in me, just as he lives in my daughter… and now his great grandson. 

Listening to his name lifting in the warm air of an evening baseball game, I could feel him sitting there, smiling, watching his great grandson throwing strikes and hitting base hits and sliding into home plate--the umpire throwing out his arms- “SAFE”! And on some distant plain I could feel the circle of life complete itself.

As we left that night, I looked back at the empty ball field under the lights, “Good night dad…see you next week… when Mike plays again.”

-Kim Michael