Nothing Is Impossible by Christopher Reeve Read Free Book Online

When I was told that was incorrect, my spirits rose again with the possibility that I was on the road to recovery.
    The experience of feeling like a child gave me a new perspective on being a father. I became acutely aware that virtually everything that parents say and do has a powerful effect on our children, even when we think they’re not paying attention. We have to constantly monitor the level of communication and be ready to take action if a child is tuning us out or having difficulty expressing his or her feelings. During Matthew’s freshman year in college we had a few awkward phone conversations. He didn’t sound like himself. Even though he said everything was all right, I could sense that he was telling me what he thought I wanted to hear. I invited him to come down for the weekend just to hang out and maybe go into the city for dinner or a Rangers game. My real agenda was for us to spend time alone. On Sundayafternoon we sat together in my office for nearly four hours. I began the conversation simply by asking him to tell me everything that was on his mind. I told him he could say anything and I promised not to interrupt him.
    The floodgates opened, perhaps because I removed any resistance he might have been expecting. He covered issues ranging from problems with his professors, other students, the challenges of college life in general, to aspects and moments of his childhood that he had never brought up with me before. I was surprised by much of what he said, particularly with regard to our relationship. I suggested that a tendency to be too polite might have been the source of a communications breakdown when he and Al were young. Time and again I would ask either one of them what they would like to do and get the same response: “I don’t mind.” Often we ended up doing what I wanted to do and they dutifully tagged along on long bike rides, mountain hikes, and offshore sailing in foul weather. When I asked them if everything was okay, the usual reply, even through their teenage years, was “Fine.”
    As Matthew went on that Sunday afternoon I realized I could have done a better job reading between the lines. As I listened I reminded myself that none of us has the right to refute someone else’s experience or perception. If a child says that when a parent did
X
or said
Y
it caused him pain, the parent must not say that it isn’t true. I think we should explore what happened and try to find out what caused that feeling. The worst thing we can do is to say, “That’s wrong, you’re exaggerating, you’re rewriting history.” Many times the only thing to say, as long as we really mean it, is “I’m sorry.”
    I believe that becoming a parent is a gift, even though parenting means taking on an enormous responsibility. It’s a miracle that a child can come into the world and instinctively give us unconditional love. If we can return that kind of love and provide a nurturing environment, the responsibility becomes less challenging. I was on my feet when Matthew and Al were born, and thought I was ready to be a good parent; certainly I would try to make their childhood in some ways different than mine. For the first two years of Will’s life, all was well. The children were thriving, and I felt the privilege much more than the responsibility.
    When I decided to live my new life, the weight of responsibility was suddenly overwhelming. But because all three were a vital part of that decision, simply by showing (as Dana did) that they loved me as much as always, I was able to overcome feelings of guilt and inadequacy, which actually made me a better father. I’m very grateful for that, although I wish I could have learned the lesson the hard way.



When I do good I feel good.
When I do bad I feel bad.
And that’s my religion.
    —Abraham Lincoln, 1860
    D uring the last few years countless numbers of people have remarked, “Your faith must be a great help as you cope with your ordeal.” Then they ask,