Here is my lovely grandson, Luca, who has graced my weekend with his presence. As many have noted, he is the spitting image of his Mom when she was a baby, though roughly twice her size.
He is a dreamer, according to his T-shirt, but something else. He smiles, interacts, notices, and "talks" with his mouth and his hands. He is one of the most responsive two and a half month olds I have ever encountered.
His large blue eyes are mesmerizing. You get the feeling he doesn't miss anything that comes within his field of vision, even now, when he cannot yet move around. I can't wait for the time that is coming, a few months hence, when Luca starts rolling over, lifting up, and bringing the world to his own terms!
It was a Saturday, which means I drove 80 miles and watched two (in this case) disappointing soccer games. But my own personal athletes excelled.
It must be hard for a non-parent to appreciate, but when you see your child dance, sing, act, or play a game with all of his skill and passion, you give up a little bit of yourself, in a good way. It is a natural part of the dying process, one that leaves a smile on your face.
As a writer, I am quite used to giving up a piece of myself. I do that every time I lay down another one of these blog posts.
Think of this kind of writing as akin to laying your tongue, foolishly, on a frozen bridge. Painfully, you peel away less than when you placed your tongue at such risk. One cannot do this forever, not honestly. Something gets diminished with every effort. You have less and less to give.
When you are finally finished, drained, no more words will flow. You will fall silent. Even then, your eyes and ears will still tell you the story that your lips can no longer speak.
The beauty of our children reminds us, as they take their place, in the natural order of things, that while we move aside, into the silence of history, along with all of the other ghosts, screaming silently into our ears that never seem quite able to hear, this is the way it is meant to be.
That, I believe, is the image that believers call heaven, or perhaps also hell. Either way, it's about being on the outside looking in. Remembering but no longer able to do any of it. Knowing deep in your soul, that this is how it is meant to be. That it is time to let go, to fly away, but also to send one final kiss from your lips to theirs, with the enduring message of eternal love.
The most powerful three words are and forever will be, "I love you."
I love you, dear readers.
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