Pride and sorrow

I am a very fortunate man. I have an extremely talented family. My children are gifted in so many ways. Two of my daughters are well on there way to become teachers of the leaders of tomorrow. My other daughter is probably going to solve world peace in China while proof reading another one of my wife's novels. My son who so admirably brings up the rear guard of the family, will someday swim in the olympics. My wife who could very likely take over the required reading of all the middle and high schools of the USA, is with out a doubt, beyond the abilities of my vocabulary. I am so proud of them all.
Pride comes with a price. Somehow, if my childhood filled with lectures from all-knowing adults had touched upon the topic of sorrow and it's connection with pride,...I missed it. Oh how I have studied the art of sorrow as of late. Injuries end sports careers for two daughters. One daughter has had to leave a music passion behind due to life just fucking not being filled with enough hours in a day. A wife, who's own passions are teetering on the edge of a time line, is contemplating a slow death for her sister. Although I might enjoy the fictitious slaughter of her sibling, I recognize how sad it is. My son, who just fell short of a dream of becoming an all american swimmer at an event that took a herculean effort just to be invited to, wept in my arms today. I have faced enough
sorrow, thank you.

I wished that somewhere in my travels I had become a bit more prepared for experiencing the sorrow of others. I guess that's what open caskets and dying pets are for, toughening up the skin for the bigger things in life.