A little over a year ago, his grandfather died. The only grandfather he'd ever known. During that time, in a conversation we were having, we touched briefly on the subject of MY mortality. The reaction in him was immediate and profound. It wasn't a subject to pursue. That was emphatically obvious. That was the first time I really SAW the love in my adult son for me.
I remember the little boy's love. The kid I used to carry around by the straps of his bib overalls. The kid with the fine blond hair that looked like he was bald until he was four. The kid who wanted to go to Kindergarten in his little sport coat, white shirt and tie. The kid who took a derelict motorcycle COMPLETELY apart and rebuilt it, so that it started the first time he tried it. The kid we wound up homeschooling through high school, all because of that girl. The kid who went with me to Ireland, and, as a 16 year old young man subject to his father's strange sense of humor, got drunk on Bulmer's Cider.
Over time, as kids grow up and parents, too, the 'Love' mellows, sort of similar to the way the love between parents mellows. The 'Love' isn't as demonstrative as it is with little kids. It just 'IS'. But you're always preparing and moving toward the day when the love will be at a distance; when they will leave home. So you let the love BE less demonstrative.
But sometimes, just sometimes, something will happen that will throw some light on the love that's there, and that's what happened on that day. It has become a most treasured memory for me. I'll never forget the look in his eyes.
Today my #2 Son, my earth child, my trap shooting, paintballing, guitar playing, motorcycle riding Alexander is 25 years old. I am incredibly, indescribably proud of him. And I love him way more than he could ever love me.
Happy Birthday, Son.
P.S. I have written a guest post for Sandy at Momisodes. Drop by and say 'Hi!"