Grieving my Inner Child
Context:
After a challenging time at work, and a much-needed day spent just being, I found myself watching childish films, eating biscuits for lunch, climbing soft play frames, and dancing through the garden sprinklers.That evening, it hit me — how deeply I grieve for the boy I once was.
And yet, here I am. Living the greatest role of my life. A father. A man allowed to remember — and return.
To My Children
I have the greatest job in the world.
Growing younger as you grow older.
You teach me how to be free again —
to remember who I was,
before the world asked me to be tougher,
quieter,
harder.
I watch you
run, screaming, through the garden —
without fear,
without shame.
You fall.
You cry.
And five seconds later,
you laugh.
You’re not pretending to be strong.
You just are.
You’re the strongest people I have ever seen.
And I grieve that.
I miss that.
I ache for that.
I used to be you.
Curious.
Messy.
Full of questions that didn’t need answers.
But somewhere along the way,
I traded my wonder for worry.
My imagination for bills.
My joy for judgment.
My dreams for careers.
But you —
you let me take that back.
You roll back the clock.
Growing up is a con.
I see it now —
how the world hardens us,
files down our edges,
tells us to stop feeling
so much,
so loud,
so deep.
But you?
You feel everything.
You dream everything.
You are everything.
And I want that back.
I want to climb trees again.
Believe in monsters again.
Cry without apology.
Laugh without restraint.
I want to see the world without bias.
To ask why? and not feel ashamed.
To love everything —
before I learned of the hate
that’s rotting this world.
So thank you.
For letting me borrow your eyes.
To see what you see.
For reminding me
there is still time
to unlearn the silence.
For letting me be free again —
a child,
if only in mind and spirit.