Crying Hearts

Tonight was my son’s belt testing ceremony. I was supposed to be out there with him doing my own test, but I couldn’t because of my knee. All day long, I have been emotional and upset at the prospect of not being able to test, especially after I’d worked so hard to be ready. But I wanted to keep the focus on my son tonight, not on me. I was doing pretty well to hold it together, even despite my son telling me that he wished I could be out there testing with him. But when the higher belts started sparring, I lost it.

I tried to fight back the tears welling up in my eyes, but they came spilling out anyway. Tears for not being able to test. Tears for not being able to spar. Tears for being hurt. Tears at having to watch my son go on without me, while I was left behind on the side of the road. My spousal unit missed my tears but saw the glum look on my face, and she said, “It’s okay.” All I could say was, “No, it’s not. It’s really not.” I still don’t think she quite understands what’s going on with me or how hard this was for me tonight. I’m incredibly proud of my son, and I would gladly support him even if it means my heart will break. But it was still hard. Tomorrow, I get to watch him get his next belt. It means that he’ll finally get to start sparring. Except it also means that I won’t be able to spar with him, which we’d both been looking forward to. Every time I turn around, it just makes me so angry again.