People who read my work are usually aware of the fact that I have a single child that I parent along with my wife. He is my glory. I've never felt anything similar towards any other human. Since I was adopted, he is the only human I've met who shares DNA with me. I do not suggest anything about fate or destiny, only that I blessed beyond measure that God gave me this child. My heart has been bruised and broken by life, and mercifully, my son renews my soul.
“Growing up is losing some illusions, in order to acquire others.”― Virginia Woolf
I am dealing with the impermanence of life. My son Jonathan is now one year short of eighteen. I am not suggesting that life can't continue and be great, that we won't change and adjust. The direct pain though comes in the flow of memories. His 7 year old self running out to hug me when I picked him up at school from 2nd grade. Driving up to Duluth after 3rd Grade was over on the first day school was over. Eating at Denny's to celebrate the last day of school. He was beautiful, loving, intelligent, kind, and joyful. He was overwhelmed by happiness when we adopted two cats (as I was too).
My heart is swelled with pride over him. He is a beautiful human, filled with genius, talent, love. He is handsome, and witty.
“He was painfully shy, which, as is often the manner of the painfully shy, he overcompensated for by being too loud at the wrong times.”― Neil Gaiman
The truth of the matter is, he and I are very much alike. But we have had very different events that have formed who we are. We are both INFJ on the MBTI personality exam.
“To experience commitment as the loss of options, a type of death, the death of childhood's limitless possibility, of the flattery of choice without duress-this will happen, mark me. Childhood's end.”