Lucas, Daddy and Basketball

I signed Lucas up for basketball 'skills development' at the YMCA and he had his first session this past Saturday.  When I checked the list of activities in the Y fall calendar, I came across these 5- 6 year old sessions.  Not knowing anything about them, we decided to go for it.  Lucas was excited- he got ready fast in his once too-long soccer shorts now perfectly styled b-ball shorts and a sleeveless t-shirt (we fondly call a 'muscle-shirt').  I didn't think much about what he wore until we hit the gym.

The smell of the gym instantly brought me back to my years playing basketball- mostly the smell of sweat mixed with squeaking rubber shoes.   The head 'coach' is a dad of one of the kids, someone I knew from Queen's.  Now a teacher, he was in his element with the kids and put on an awesome practice.  With Lucas running down the court, dribbling, in his muscle shirt, I could just see Mike there-- either wearing one of those red volunteer-proud dad-coach t-shirts, or dressed just like Lucas in one of his 'muscle shirts' and long b-ball shorts, trying to sneak a few shots on the sidelines, or maybe just standing at the baseline, coffee in hand, fully content to just be there for Lucas.  The wave of grief hits.

All I could think:  Mike should be here for this.  All I could feel was his absence.  As the day passed, I thought more and more about Mike in his basketball gear--  fun memories of us playing together when we first met (one of our first 'dates');  Mike organizing pick-up Meds;  the lure of lunch-hoops;  muscle shirts;  'cool' wrist bands;  Queen's greys;  that huge open-mouthed grin;  attending a few Raptors games- once court-side!;  a seemingly endless supply of white sports socks;  a sweaty happy guy.  It seems once the wave passes, it reveals treasures on the beach.