How sad for these boys. It reminds me of a poem I've had on my bedroom mirror for years:
My hands were busy through the day.
I didn’t have much time to play.
The little games you asked to do,
I didn’t have much time for you.
I’d wash your clothes. I’d sew and cook.
You’d ask and I’d read from your book.
I’d tuck you in all safe at night,
And hear your prayers; turn out the light.
Then tiptoe softly by your door,
I wish I’d stayed a minute more.
For life was short, the years rushed past,
A little boy grows up so fast.
No longer is he at my side,
His precious secrets to confide.
The picture books are put away.
There are no longer games to play.
No Teddy Bears or misplaced toys
No sleepovers with lots of boys.
No goodnight kiss, no prayers to hear.
That all belongs to yesteryear.
My hands, once busy, now are still.
The days are long and hard to fill.
I wish I could go back and do
The little things you asked me to do.
When my daughter was younger, we used to play a lot. I spent quite a bit of time with her and we literally wore out her CandyLand game to the point that the board just fell apart. We made up silly little games using Happy Meals toys, and such. I also read to her as often as she wanted.
But, it still bothers me that one time when she was 4 and she wanted to play Hide and Go Seek, and I only pretended to play because I was so wrapped up in--of all things-- a computer game.
Every second of every day is precious beyond measure. And it vanishes in an instant.
Thanks, that made me cry.