The Sweet Devastation of a look

I recently found this blog while rummaging through some old emails.  What a lovely surprise to be able to look back at some things happening when the kids were little.  There is a a bit of synchronicity to it as well, as something happened last weekend that struck me as something that I needed to write about. 
We were driving to my sister's house for our mother's day event.  We all had our devices out and were jamming to our own music through our headphones when I noticed something.  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my 10 year old, Jack, just sitting there watching me drive.  It was the kind of watching that I catch sometimes where I feel he is looking for cues, or clues, perhaps about how to be a grown man.  Perhaps, just wondering what I am thinking.
 Maybe just looking up to me the way I used to with my own dad.  I remember watching my dad, trying to figure out how a grown up man does things, faces the world, reacts to adversity.  Hoping to be strong and fearless and kind and caring. 
I could feel Jack's love for me in that moment.   I could see his careful study, his admiration, his deep connection to his father.  His yearning for understanding of and guidance through a complex world. 
In that moment as my heart swelled with joy and love and pride, I felt a sense of responsibility.   The one that is always there, now hyper present, confronting me.  I felt the dread and sadness at the realization that I am failing him in a thousand ways every day.  And the hope that those failings are outweighed by the successes. 
All of this in a fleeting moment before I inevitably turn to him, smile and reach out to pat his leg as if to let him know how deeply my feelings run and how mutual is the admiration. 
Son, I hope, as you grow and mature and start to realize that I am a flawed man, that you know I Love you more than you could possibly imagine,  that I did the best I could always and that I never lost sight of the immense responsibility that was gifted to me.