“A time to embrace, a time to refrain from embracing.”
“Turn! Turn! Turn!” by the Byrds
The thing about our everyday moments is that they never felt like memories while we were living them.
A time for noise.
Our boys were bundles of chatter and motion, always testing every limit. Their laughter filled the air, and their boundless energy spilled into every corner of our home.
A time for learning.
Sports initially became their natural outlet—a way to teach commitment, time management, teamwork, and resilience. It gave them the chance to be part of something bigger than themselves, to forge lifelong friendships, and to understand the value of showing up.
A time for cheers.
As their world expanded, so did ours. Going to practices, watching games, and cheering from the sidelines became our shared tradition. It kept us engaged in their lives as they created their own memories and developed their own superpowers.
Winters were spent on basketball courts and under indoor soccer domes. Summers brought cleats and shin guards, and every season overflowed with camaraderie that spilled into our home and backyard.
A time for bonding.
With weekend-long tournaments stretching throughout the year, long road trips became a regular part of our lives. As we indulged in our Dad’s favourite snacks and discovered new ones along the way, those drives gave us uninterrupted time for meaningful conversations, a chance to reflect on our shared history, and swap stories about our own childhood adventures.
And let’s not forget the inevitable Alphabet Game, where I, as the self-appointed commissioner, always let the boys win settled disputes in our always-spirited competitions.
The trips were a balance of lighthearted moments, teasing, inside jokes, and funny observations—and quiet companionship, where we just zoned out, enjoyed the scenery, got lost in our own music and games, or sat in blissful silence. The long miles often led to late-night sing-alongs (proof!👂) born of sleep deprivation, followed by kinked necks from nodding off after a long day on the court. Through it all, we unknowingly reinforced our bonds, made memories that would last a lifetime, and enriched our relationships in ways we hadn’t yet realized.
A time for showing up.
We weren’t just parents on the sidelines—we were a family united in support, on and off the field. As their interests evolved and their world grew larger, we adapted together. My own signature superpower—balancing calendars, managing homework, keeping bellies full, ensuring uniforms were ready and permission slips were signed—kept the heartbeat of our family steady.
Whether he was the team manager, scorekeeper, coach, or offering “constructive chirping” from the sidelines, Dad was always more than just a parent. He played with them like a kid, offered advice like a friend, and protected them like a bodyguard. Even after his own long day at school—whether as a student himself or a professor—he’d make little paper “special kisses” to slip under pillows when he couldn’t make it home before bedtime. He kept our traditional after-dinner driveway basketball games alive and never once complained when he came home late, and had to carry their sleeping bodies to bed after the coveted and cuddle-filled “sleepovers” with mom on rainy nights. For 100 more of the little things he did for his children, see this throwback.
We were always there. Always present.
All of us.
When one of us got sick or needed to go to the hospital, we rallied—offering comfort, encouragement, and understanding during difficult times.
We came together.
And when the boys had their wisdom teeth extracted, we videotaped them while they were still under sedation… for future leverage.
Obviously.
A time for tradition.
Like every family in the 2000s, we also came together every Wednesday night to watch Survivor. And unlike every family, it became a tradition to watch—wait for it—How I Met Your Mother every Monday. And opening nights? Well, they were always reserved for Marvel.
Our dinner table was a gathering place where stories and laughter spilled between bites, where board games came out on weekends, and where mornings began with our trademark coffee and cards.
We kept our boys surrounded by cousins, aunts, uncles, grandparents
until we couldn’t.
A time for trust.
We nurtured their educational and social lives as tournaments gave way to part-time jobs and new experiences. We were their protective shield—always providing shelter, food, clothing, and essentials—and a safe ride home from the party. No questions.
We respected their privacy and were sensitive to the confusing world which they sometimes faced. We provided a home that was stable, loving, communicative, and always full of play.
A time for laughter.
We laughed.
A lot.
We were a mischievous crew, always playing practical jokes on each other. The lighthearted confusion added to our comfort and showcased our shared—and slightly warped—sense of humour to friends and girlfriends alike. Collective laughter regularly filled the air, and that playfulness became a vital part of our dynamic, bringing joy that only deepened the closeness we already shared.
We hugged.
A lot.
A time for growth.
We built a strong moral foundation and gave them the tools and emotional support they needed to step into the world with confidence.
We were grounded, kind, and considerate parents—firm on boundaries, but unafraid to apologize and own our mistakes—because we made them.
A lot.
A time for being there.
We were always there. In the carpool lane. In the bleachers. In the hard conversations. In the everyday.
A time for letting go.
Even though I was building a life that I always wanted, I didn’t know I was building a life that I’d one day miss so much.