Tuesday, December 20, 2011

"Dad, will you check on me?"

I don't know why it started, but one day it did. Dg8 just started showing up in the bedroom after he had gone to bed.

"Dad I'm scared."
"What's wrong?"
"I don't know.  I just feel so lonely.  I love you so much."
"Well I love you too.  And we're here and your fine so go to bed."
"Will you check on me?"
"Yes."
"Will you check on me a lot?"
"Yes Dg8 now go to bed."

Everynight he would ask me.  "Will you check on me?"  "Yes."  "But will you check on me a lot?"  "Yes buddy, now go to bed."  Sometimes he would come down crying.  I told him he didn't have to wait until he was so distraught he was crying.  He could just come down.  He accepted the offer and began to come downstairs looking sad.  Occassionally, he would bring his beddings and sleep on the floor at the foot of our bed.

Over time this evolved.  We tried praying, which he says helps and he is now doing everynight.  We tried breathing in and breathing out and just focusing on breathing.  After awhile we tried to tap into his positive imagination.  All attempts had limited effect.  He eventually started to ask me to pray with him each night when I went to check on him.  And finally, he wanted to make sure I wasn't going to be asleep before him.
I almost never go to sleep before Dg8, but one night after the process began I did and he reminds me of it everynight.  "Dad, will you check on me?"  "Yes."  "Will you check on me a lot?"  "Yes.  Tons."  "Will you pray with me if I'm awake when you come up?"  "Yes, of course."  "Are you going to go to sleep before me?"  "No, I never do Dg8."  "You did that one night."   Uggghhh.

At times it was ridiculous.  On our vacation we passed through Missouri.  My Grandfather called it "Misery" when he was alive.  He hated to drive through "Misery."  We got a hotel after midnight one night.  I was beat.  The room had double queen beds.  We put GM1s pack and play between the beds.  I lay down with my hand over the bed so GM1 had something to hold and to comfort him, though the room was fairly lit.  Dg8 lay on the side closest to me and while staring at me, two feet away he said it all again.  "Dad, will you check on me?"

He hasn't been down in our room in quite some time.  And every time I check on him now he's asleep, though he never fails to ask the questions.  For awhile I was frustrated, but I think everyone needs the same kinds of comfort Dg8 is asking for.  We need to know someone is there and that they're checking on us.  And sometimes we need to know their checking on us a lot and that we won't be alone.
The Gateway Arch in St. Louis
When I was a boy I would look out my 2nd floor window over the pines the rich people planted to keep the courts private from us next door.  I looked into the court where anonymous people played at night in their white shorts, polo shirts and sweatbands.  The lights didn't go out until 10pm and during the summer my windows would be open.  I could hear the crickets and the thwack of the ball.  Thwack-thud-thwack-thud.

I always thought the girls, on the other side of the upstairs, got a raw deal.  I don't remember them ever having a tough time sleeping, but I did.  When no one was playing I would sneak down the stairs, placing my boy's feet carefully around the creaking boards.  When the t.v. was in the right spot I might watch with immunity for quite awhile.  When the t.v. was in the wrong place I could sit very safely and listen.  At some point I would wake up and stagger to my bed.