A Full Heart

My son came home from afar this week. He has been gone, living abroad since August of last year and I last saw his face, hugged him, heard his laughter, when he was home over the Christmas holidays.

I love my boys, oh how I love them. They are each kind, funny, smart, wonderful young men… unique in their perfections and imperfections and similar in their mannerisms and charms. It takes me aback at times when I consider who they have become and from where they have come… From little boys with skinned knees and tears, hospital visits and pet store acquisitions, giggles and games all on the road to becoming to men that I am so proud to know let alone have the privilege of parenting.

But it is my duty as a parent to, from the moment they enter my life, prepare them to leave me and succeed on their own. That is my duty and I owe them that and so much more. So I have done my best and loved them more than I imagined possible. And now, as they move forward with their lives, as they should, I am left to cheer them from way back on the sidelines. As I should. The cheering part, that’s always been easy… But the sidelines part… that is hard.

Our hearts at times seem independent spirits… it is without our will or consent how deeply they devote themselves to others and it is often a surprise to us how fully they feel love. It is a blessing in every way but it is equally surprising how deeply they feel hurt when the objects of our affections are not close to us.

Much has been written about distance between hearts but what I think is it’s the one distance you are most acutely aware of. It’s the one that wakes you up in the middle of the night or makes you think of that person in the middle of a busy day. It is distracting and occupying. When you are close, it feels like your heart beats stronger and that space in it, saved for that person, is filled.

I am so happy my boys are all near to me. I will drink up their love now and on into the future as they continue to scatter along the paths of their lives.

From Dad

This past Mother’s Day, as a mother myself, I reflected on the lessons that I learned from my mother and the lessons I had tried to pass on to my sons. Now, facing Father’s Day without my own dear dad and as my sons enjoy it with their own dear dad, I am reflecting again.

I have been without my dad since I was 21. I was young and in a very unhappy place when he died and I felt then that I lost him when I needed him most. As the years and decades have passed, I realize now that I was almost right then. It was a huge loss to me when he died, but at the same time, it was the only way that I could have moved forward in a way that would ensure my happiness and that of my wonderful little boy. So move on I did, in the absence of the one form of support that I could always count on.

My dad taught me a lot.

Now again, I am not so naïve to think, even with the fading of the sharpness of my past to believe that my dad was without faults. He, like all of us, had his share. He was an alcoholic, he worked hard and spent very little time at home with his family except, as the good Catholic he was, on Sundays. He kept his feelings deeply hidden except when he was angry with my sister or me, or our mother for that matter. He withheld affection and even communication when he was angry and he could be angry for days at a time.

But despite all that, I feel my dad was a wonderful man and I’ll tell you why. My dad saved me. I have mentioned before that I was adopted at the age of two and for as long as I can remember my dad would sit me on his knee (or anywhere nearby when I grew too big) and tell me in great detail the story of how he found me. Keep in mind that I was a two year old, cross-eyed, uncoordinated little girl… hardly high up on the adoptability scale. But he would tell me how he walked around the place where I Iived, looking at all the pretty, perfect little girls that played there, and chose me. I am sure that it didn’t actually happen that way, but he let me believe it did.

And that gave me an enormous sense of being wanted in a home that gave all indications to the contrary. That was the one lesson that was the most important of all; that I was loved. He told me so, often. He would not let me leave home without kissing him on the cheek and telling me he loved me (unless, as I said he wasn’t speaking to me… this I can forgive).

And he told me, in the most embarrassing of ways and at the most embarrassing of times, that no guys I knew were good enough for me. Not a lesson that stuck unfortunately, but a lesson worth repeating by any parent when you see your child going down a path that you know will end in sorrow.

So, my dear dad, in the relatively short time we had together, gave me the best gifts, taught me the most important lessons.

And as it turns out… he was there when I needed him the most. He found me and saved me, that cross-eyed, uncoordinated little girl, and that made everything else possible.

From Mom

As a mother on the day before the day dedicated to women like myself world wide, I can't help but think about the lessons imparted upon me by my mother and what I have tried to teach my boys.

Now let me begin by saying that my mother and I never ever had a warm relationship. Either of them actually. I am adopted and spent my first two years moving from foster home to foster home before my birth mother decided to relinquish her connection to me, freeing me for adoption. At that time I was placed in the home that came to be my family and in permanent connection to Shirley, my adoptive mother. I can recall once being hugged by her and never remember her telling me she loved me. I struggled for a long time with the impact this relationship had on me and have worked hard and dug deep to find the warmth and love within myself that should have been shown to me by her so I could give it to my boys.

But despite that, I know there are lessons she taught me. Shirley taught me:

- that no matter what, no man has a right to hit you
- how to make a fantastic macaroni and cheese from scratch
- that if you can read, you can cook and there is nothing more intimidating about it than that
- that I deserve better (unfortunately back then I didn't listen to this one)
- that when you walk, hold your head up high and pull your shoulders back

That's about all I can tell you, but that is enough for me. And there are some pretty big lessons in there.

As for my relationship with my boys, I hope I have given them lessons that will carry them well, equip them with tools they will need to lead happier lives. Here is a random sampling of what I've wanted my boys to learn:

- don't throw garbage out of the car, onto the ground or anywhere except an appropriately designated receptacle (and that does not include your bedroom floor)
- show your love... show it as often as you can, tell them, hug them because you never know when you'll get a chance to do it again
- don't be limited by geography, the world is yours (they seem to have listened to this one, unfortunately I didn't anticipate how hard it would be on me when they took me up on that piece of advice but I'm so glad it sunk in)
- you don't have to be married or have children but being loved is a wonderful thing... cherish it when it happens
- wipe the seat... please!!!
- give back in whatever way you can
- your words of kindness will be remembered so much longer than you ever imagine... so will your words of hostility
- violence is never the answer... never
- if you can read you can cook, it's no more intimidating than that (yes, this was a good one)
- you deserve to be treated well, if the person makes you sad more than they make you happy, you deserve better
- don't stick your gum under the table... seriously!

I don't know if my boys will take all these or any of the other lessons I tried to share along with them in their lives. I hope at least they'll take the one that I tried to instill in them every single day... that their mom loves them no matter what. And to know you are loved, no matter what, is a good good thing I think.