When grown children come home to visit, it seems all of our hidden nerve endings emerge into open air. The house becomes full of unspoken, reserved opinions leaving no room for fresh air to blow around. As much as I love to see my grown young man, and as the opportunity to do so decreases, I am okay with saying good-bye too. It brutally came to my attention this past weekend, when my child made his way to our door after a two year period of limited communication via phones or internet. The "obligation" to visit was apparent upon his face, and I understood that he was gracing us with his presence, if mostly only to reconnect with his little brother whom I know he misses terribly.
So many emotions surface, that have everything and nothing to do with the relationship established on the day of my son's birth. Bringing back those roots that were embedded in a bad marriage, a lonely and poverty stricken climb to higher ground, and a struggling self esteem that somehow was supposed to fearlessly protect and nurture a child as well as the world encompassing us. Obligations felt both by myself and my child, to cling to those old roots that had long since changed and grown or withered depending upon the times...and all of a sudden we looked at each other and did not really recognize ourselves. Talk about a storm churning under our roof.
As with most storms, there is an eye of power. And when the eye of power strikes, damage is inevitable. Our words came out in anger and like the high winds of a hurricane...lashing and whipping against the object in the way. So it was this weekend at one point. And damage was done. Tears were shed. But with all damage, comes healing and restitution also. When the eye of the storm passes, and the winds get tired and disperse....the whisper of forgiveness sneaks in. From the depths of that first seed of love planted deeper than the stems of change grew, our vision and perspective cleared as we look at each other, broken from the storm. There he is. My baby, with his clear blue eyes, sad and hurt and all of a sudden I know he sees me too, for his momma that I was. He had always seen me as His Rock, the only consistent thing in the world to him and all he knew. We only had each other in this whole world. For good or for evil, we were all we had. I had always seen him as my child, to be protected and to be loved and to be handled gently while I held tightly to the leash that kept him safe for the while it took to make him strong enough to let go. Letting go is easier said than done. It took a storm for me to set him free.
