HE WAS TEACHING ME Every so often people come into our lives and shape us a little. Then, less often, there are those who change everything. Little Mitch changed my everything. I cannot look at this photo and not be overcome by the tenderest of feelings for my son. In less than a second I go from a grown man to a fumbling boy tripping over my little heart. Immediately I feel weak at the knees and my heart swells, then it breaks and strangely heals – all in the same moment of reflection. My tears, too, are of a strange variety: at once theyre tears of sorrow and gratitude, of longing and belonging, tears of love and hope. I remember this day with little Mitch so well; and, as time passes, I am finding that my memories are both a blessing and a burden. My memories are so clear but they sometimes come at a cost. Never a day passed that Mitch wasnt showered with loves and kisses by Natalie and me; and never a day passed he didnt want to do the same to us, in kind. I loved how affectionate he was. I never imagined a love so deep. I think Im finally beginning to understand the words of Washington Irving who said, “There is a sacredness in tears....They are the messengers of overwhelming grief, of deep contrition and of unspeakable love.” I realize I cant run from grief, but I can run with it. However heavy, grief is my constant companion, a weight equal to my love and I will carry it until the day I die. If I carry it well, I know I will get stronger and it may feel less heavy. But it will still be grief, and there will still be the deepest of sorrow. Im reminded of the saying, “It never gets easier, you just get stronger.” So it is with grief, I believe. Grief is a curious thing. I find myself with prolonged moments of robustness and clarity of mind; my heart steady and calm. On balance Im high-functioning throughout the day. Then in an instant, without warning or permission, a memory flashes through my mind, the color of light, a smell, a faint thought … a quiet whisper to the mind … or a little hand-written note from my son slips from a drawer to the floor … and everything falls apart. Though my heart, at times, feels heavier than all the planets combined, I am so grateful to have raised this little boy … that I can call him mine. Though I thought I was to teach my son the things of life and love and heaven above, I now see things differently. I was mistaken, you see: I was never meant to teach my son, for he was teaching me.
Posted on: Thu, 26 Jun 2014 02:04:19 +0000
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