On my wife’s birthday, I surprised her with a copy of Titanic on DVD. It was my three-year-old child who inquired, “Can I watch it after nursery school?” When asked about it, I responded, “No, it’s for adults like Mommy and Daddy.”
Later, when I went to get him up, the teacher was trying to contain her laughter the entire time.
From the beginning of the day to the end of the day, my son was telling everyone that “Mommy and Daddy watch the Titanic alone at night because it’s for grown-ups only.”
Undoubtedly, I had a few additional minutes to spend explaining things to the person who picked me up. With great courtesy, the instructor inquired, “Is this Titanic like… Titanic Titanic?” “The vessel?”
Trying not to giggle, I responded with a “yes.” It is the one that features Leonardo DiCaprio.
Still laughing, she gave a slight nod. This makes a great deal more sense to me now. We received the impression that you might have some… secret version.”
When I told my wife about it that evening, she was so enthralled by the story that she almost fell off the couch. Imagine all of those poor instructors who are under the impression that we own an explicit film with a Titanic theme.
One of those stories that we told our friends anytime we needed to break the ice at gatherings, it became one of those stories.
Nevertheless, despite the fact that it was hilarious, it did plant a strange little seed.
Max, my son, developed a fixation on the novel Titanic. Obviously, he was not permitted to see the movie, but the ship was the subject of his attention.
His line of inquiry was never-ending. “What caused the boat to capsize? Did anyone make it through? Have you seen a slide in it? Would you compare it to a pirate ship?
Almost immediately, he began creating large ships that featured smokestacks and icebergs.
It was then that he began to act as if our bathtub was the Atlantic Ocean and began to utilize shampoo bottles as lifeboats.
That didn’t really bother me at all. Children have a tendency to become obsessed with things. However, this continued for several months.
After that, there was the evening when he asked me, “Daddy, why did the captain not see the iceberg?” when he was eating his chicken nuggets.
I pondered for a moment before providing the most fundamental response: “Because there are times when people believe they are in control when they are not.” They move too quickly and fail to recognize the impending danger.
With a leisurely nod, it appeared as though he was taking everything in.
Then, in a low voice, he stated, “I believe that was something that occurred to both you and your mother.”
I blinked my eyes. “What are you trying to say, buddy?”
I was in my mother’s womb when you and your mother were moving at a rapid pace, right? Because you failed to spot the iceberg.
It was a more severe blow than I had anticipated.
It came as a bit of a shock when Max was born. Only a year had passed since my wife and I had begun our relationship when she became pregnant. We made hasty choices, such as getting married, purchasing a modest home, and working jobs that provided financial support but did not enhance our happiness.
From across the table, I turned my gaze to Max. While doing so, he was humming to himself while dipping his fries in ketchup.
In spite of everything, he had, in some way, uncovered something more profound.
On that particular evening, while he was sleeping, I sat down with my wife.
“What Max said to you over dinner is something you won’t believe.”
One of her eyebrows was elevated. Are you referring to the fact that bananas are nature’s toy vehicles once more?
It is not. It was for our benefit. The ship known as the Titanic. The tip of the iceberg”
Her smile faded away. A “Oh.”
In the end, we carried out one of those lengthy chats that had been overdue.
It was both of us that revealed that we had been feeling a little… weird. I am not dissatisfied. However, it is far away. It was almost as if we were co-captains of the same ship, but we were only occasionally standing on the same deck.
We continued to converse till midnight. No shouting is allowed. There are no allegations. It’s just the truth.
In the weeks that followed, we undertook some minor adjustments.
I started leaving work earlier on Fridays so that my family and I could participate in some activity together.
She began painting once more, which was something she hadn’t done since she was in college.
Despite the fact that Max was unaware of it, he had sent us a wake-up call.
The months went by. Dust accumulated on the DVD of the Titanic. After a while, Max moved on to dinosaurs from ships. Volcanoes come next. Next, out into the void.
Nevertheless, he never stopped making observations that were unexpected.
When he asked me why I always smiled when I was sleepy, it was at five o’clock.
My wife was instructed by him at the age of six that she ought to compose a book on the dreams that she had.
When he was seven years old, he began to make statements such as, “I believe Grandpa visits me in my dreams, and we communicate without using our mouths.”
We dismissed it as the result of our childlike imagination.
Somehow, he always gave off the impression of being older. A wiser person.
On the occasion of Max’s ninth birthday, we took a journey to Halifax as a family. Max had recently finished his studies in Canadian geography, and my wife had a work-related commitment there.
Even though we had no intention of going there, we found ourselves in the Maritime Museum one afternoon.
In its entirety, the Titanic was the subject of the show.
Max entered the room and immediately became still.
A recovered deck chair was displayed in front of him, and he peered at it as if it meant something to him personally.
He moved over to a massive chart that depicted the closing moments of the ship’s journey and murmured, “This is where it happened as it happened.”
We looked at each other and exchanged glances.
She questioned, “Did you happen to learn that in school?”
The man gave a head shake. It is not. Simply said, I am aware.”
It was a disturbing experience. Children, on the other hand, have vivid imaginations.
Upon his return to the hotel, Max inquired about the possibility of watching the film Titanic.
The answer was yes this time. He had reached the appropriate age.
Through the majority of it, he remained silent and sat there. No jokes, no comments, please. Simply a wide set of eyes and clenched fists.
He stated, “They were too proud,” after it had come to an end. So that’s why it went down.”
After that, he did not wake up.
In the morning of the following day, I discovered a message that he had written on the notepad of the hotel. It read, “Even the largest ships need to be humble.” Or else they will be sunk.
I was unable to avoid thinking about that particular line.
As the years passed, Max continued to be thoughtful and, in the nicest possible manner, a little bit weird.
He was not a big fan of playing video games. Reads that are preferred.
For hours on end, he would engage in conversation with his elderly neighbors, inquiring about their lives.
I came across him in the backyard one day, when he was having a conversation with Mr. Holland, our retired neighbor who rarely interacted with anybody else.
Mr. Holland found himself chuckling. I hadn’t seen that in a very long time.
What were you two talking about to each other? When I asked later.
Max gave a shrug. “He is longing for his wife. It is his belief that no one remembers her. As a result, I requested that he provide me with all of the information regarding her. “Then I assured him that I would remember.”
In the winter of that year, Mr. Holland passed away.
On the other hand, during the burial, they inquired as to whether or not anyone would like to speak.
Max extended his hand upwards.
He got to his feet, his hands shaking slightly, and continued, “I didn’t know Mr. Holland for very long until recently.” However, I was able to see that he had feelings for Mrs. Holland since he smiled differently whenever he spoke about her. I believe that she was aware of that.
There was a lot of crying. Not even I.
My wife and I had both changed careers by the time Max reached 13 years old, and we had also begun volunteering and discovered that we found more delight in routine activities.
Even while we were still experiencing highs and lows, we had learnt to avoid rushing past our own “icebergs.”
You, Max? The local youth mentorship program welcomed him as a member. It wasn’t because he was in need of assistance; rather, he wanted to assist other people.
I picked him up after a meeting we had earlier that evening.
He did not speak much.
How are you doing, buddy? I inquired about it.
He indicated with a nod. According to one of the youngsters, his father had departed. I informed him that mine would remain. And that I believe that there are instances when staying is more difficult than leaving.”
Stunned, I glanced at him in shock.
After then, he said, “Thank you for staying, Dad”.
My automobile was forced to come to a stop.
At that moment, it dawned on me that the child who had once mistakenly identified the Titanic as a toy for adults had, in a relatively short amount of time, developed into one of the most knowledgeable individuals I knew.
The years went by. It’s high school. It’s college.
The field of psychology was Max’s choice. People, he claimed, were comparable to ships. Even though some of them drift, some speed, and still others anchor too deeply, they all carry stories.
He desired to remain silent.
A gift was presented to both my wife and I on the day that he graduated.
An enclosed case for a DVD.
It was opened by us. This was the Titanic. The exact identical copy that was used all those years ago.
There was a note written by hand inside:
“I want to express my gratitude for guiding me through life. Even when icebergs appeared in the water. Maxim, your first love and companion.
We shed tears. Be hugged. He laughed.
That evening, the two of us sat down together and watched Titanic for the second time.
Just like when everything first started.
On the other hand, we did not speed through it this time.
We observed each and every minute.
Not only for the story that was being shown on the television, but also for the one that we had actually lived.
And when it was over, my wife looked at me and said, “It’s funny how something that used to make us laugh now feels like it’s come full circle.”
I gave a slight nod.
mostly due to the fact that the tip of the iceberg is not always the final chapter.
The point at which you finally begin to steer with your heart is sometimes the deciding factor.
Lesson for life?
Be sure not to overlook the icebergs. Don’t drive too fast through the storm.
And remember that the children who are always watching are a source of quiet wisdom that should not be underestimated.
Because there are times when the person who teaches you the most is the one you thought was too young to comprehend everything that they are teaching you.
Please tell others about this tale if it moved you.
Perhaps there is another person out there who is driving themselves toward their own iceberg.
It’s possible that this will assist them in slowing down.
I agree. Give it away. Always keep in mind that even the largest ships have to learn to be humble. If not, they will sink.