I recently read the latest post by Barefoot Deliberations. She said that she could not imagine one second without having her son, Troublemaker, in her life.
I had tears when I read that. To feel such love for your child borders on ecstasy - and I am not referring to the drug-induced kind. I know about such love: I have three wonderful children, a son and two daughters, and not a day goes by that I don't marvel at the love I feel for them. I vividly recall when they were babies and how they looked at me with such trust and devotion in their eyes. I remember their toddler days and how it seemed that I was always answering question after question. You know, don't you, that a three-year old's favourite word is "why"? But, as I tried my best to answer their queries, I always learned something new. I saw the world through their eyes. I witnessed their interpretations of various stories when they would play together and re-enact the story. I tried not to freak when they brought bugs into the house or when they were fascinated by the salamander that the cat was playing with on the back porch. Through their eyes, I learned to appreciate all living things - even if I didn't always "love" that other species. I am grateful that they, young as they were, realized that all creatures have a right to life. To this day, I tend to wave may hands at mosquitoes rather than smacking one when it lands on my arm. Thanks, kids!
The reason that Barefoot's words affected me so much is because I finished a book last night about a woman whose son was murdered. The boy in the story was only 15 and he was stabbed to death. Of course, this occurred early in the book and I had a great deal of difficulty continuing with my reading. It's the only book in recent memory that has taken me over a month to finish because, like Barefoot, I can not begin to imagine a life without any of my children. I agonized for the mother in the story when the police informed her that her son was dead. I cried with her as she made every effort to find out who had taken her boy's life. She blamed herself in many ways: she was convinced that she was a "distant" mother, that she hadn't spent enough time with her child, that she was so wrapped up in her career that she ignored the signs of trouble and blamed her son's attitude on teenage angst. She literally beat herself up; however, she learned a few good lessons in the end and the best one was that she reached out to her son's girlfriend. She wasn't afraid to get close to this girl, she was no longer afraid to open her arms and her heart to someone in need - even though this girl was from way on the other side of the tracks. Her son had taught her, even in death, to never be afraid to love.
So, love your children well, my friends. Never be afraid to let them know you love them, that you admire them, that you appreciate them and, most of all, how much you have learned from them. Look at life through their eyes and seek always the path to wonderment and amazement. Be a child once in a while, even if you are an adult.
