We went to Disney! We met the daughter and her best friend, and it was lovely. And it was exhausting (37km over the three days!) And it was hot (nearly 30℃ each day!)
And it was a great place to meet your daughter after a long time. Because we queued together, we walked together, we frightened ourselves together, we ate together, we hugged. A lot. And then it was all over and that last hug was very hard.
It’s strange being a parent because it comes with two slightly opposing job functions. One is to cut a chunk of your heart out and shove it dripping with blood into your child’s rucksack. Then while they cope with whatever the world throws at them, you listen inside the rucksack unable to help. And your other function is to tell them everything you think they need to know to cope with said world. One is hard, the other is impossible.
The telling them part is impossible because you (the parent) hasn’t the first clue what they need to cope. You tell them things you were told that didn’t help you in the least but it’s all you’ve got. Then they grow enough to resist your teaching and you get upset because how will you teach them these important (aka useless) rules if they won’t pay attention?
And you say things, things that you hope will help but they turn out to be mean things. And then you say nice things but they also turn out to be no help. It’s about this time that you start drinking regularly. (Oh, you didn’t? No, me neither…)
And then you meet them years later and you can’t get over how beautiful they are. And joy of joys they have coped with the world and all it threw at them. And your chunk of heart in their rucksack wags it’s tail at you and says, it’s all good, you did your best. And you cry for days.
Yep we went to Disney and I’m crying since but in a good way.