The great musician, Eric Clapton, wrote a wonderful song
called “Tears in Heaven,” where he wonders what would happen if he met his dead
child in heaven. The child died when she fell out of a window in his New York
City apartment.
I’m sure the child’s death is the defining moment in
Clapton’s life and I thank God that I have never lost a child. But my defining
moment came in 1957 when I lost my childhood. I didn’t know it at the moment. I
just have a memory of my mother swaying back and forth and saying, “tell your
father I’m leaving” and she walked out the door of our little house and that
was the end of my parents’ marriage.
They never got divorced and until the day my father died in
the 1970s, I had hoped by some miracle they would reunite. Today, I found
myself in family court looking at a couple who could have been my parents
fighting over the children they share. They were never married and one of the
parents has severe drug and alcohol problems. I look into the oldest child’s
eyes and wonder how much he wants this nightmare to be over. I was about the
same age when my parents split than this child is. We both went through hell. Kids,
who haven’t even had two numbers describe their age, don’t deserve the crazies
they get. They deserve childhood innocence. I still harbor bitterness about my
parents, especially my mother. Today showed me just how much.
Anyhow there was a thought that slipped into my mind as I
listened to the song. I’ve always viewed a part of heaven as a chance to laugh
at our foolishness here on earth. My father died in the ‘70s and my mother in
the ‘80s. What if?
What if they met in heaven and realized how foolish each of
them was. What if the love they once had for each other suddenly emerged into
flames and their unhappy souls were mended?
And what if they now wait for me to complete the circle? In
my old age, I cry way too often and not nearly enough. The tears I shed now are
cleansing and give me hope. I hope, for example, that my former wife and I will
somehow realize how deeply we once loved each other and begin to be at least
civil to the other. I hope that the
wounds we inflicted upon our children are somehow healed. Perhaps someday we
too will meet in heaven and wait for our children.
For about 30 years now, I have not been afraid of death. If
there is an afterlife, I wonder what it will be like. And if there is no
afterlife, I won’t exist. But I have to disagree with Clapton that there will
be no tears in heaven. I hope that tears of joy will flow like the Niagara
River.
