Saturday, July 10, 2010

For Michael Thomas

In going through my files on my computer, I came upon this poem that I wrote for our youngest son Michael when he was three. It was just a few months before we moved to Decatur for seminary...

Your Passion
For Michael Thomas, with love from Mom
April 18. 2002

You're the hardest part of my day, yet the joy of my life.
The delicate balance between ecstasy and utter frustration.
From the first stirrings of you in my body...even your conception.
I've felt it from the start, your eagerness, need, to live with passion.

They said that you couldn't was too soon.
But I knew better, as all mothers do. You were there, sure & strong.
Even at eight weeks, your beating heart was screaming for life.
A Soul that you had already claimed, passionately staked for your own.

It was as if you'd picked up the remaining pieces of the one before you,
The one who had not been, whose body was no longer there.
Perhaps there were bits of soul still present, begging for a life.
And like a good brother, you gathered them in, sharing yourself.

You were the hardest to carry, for both body & mind were weary.
And I had little time to rest, as there were other young demands.
Needs to be met, incessant and necessary.
But you were there always, reminding me of your presence.

So eager you were to join our lives that you couldn't wait 'til your time.
Your brothers were late, but were three days ahead of yourself.
Always ahead of yourself, or so you thought. So you think.
You're only three, a mere speck in the hourglass of life.

I wrestle with you, with who you are and the roller coaster you ride.
Up one minute, then plummeting down the next, with no warning, none.
I hurt for you, for the emotions you feel so strongly yet cannot name.
But we're both's just that there are so many, and it's so hard!

You're only three, too little for reasoning, for big words, or big feelings.
But your feelings ARE big, and they resonate loud & long.
Even when you are back up and the world is good again,
Your frustration, your hurtful actions, linger in my mind, heart, and memory.

Time will help, I tell myself. You'll grow out of it.
But do I want you to? That passion you have, good or bad
Is passion nonetheless. It's a depth of feeling that not everyone has.
But I know you have it because I see myself in your depths.

We'll get through this, you & me, and be better for it.
Your feelings WILL always resonate loud & long for me.
As mine will for you, one of these days. And I will remind you.
Of the days, not so very long ago, when you were my hardest part.

More musings from Mom

I remember...

...not long after my Grandpa died, I remember an Indian suit I got for Christmas--feathered headdress and all! And it was very special, I thought!

...waking up on cold winter mornings and seeing Daddy light the heaters before the family got up.

...having "tickling fights" with Daddy on Sunday mornings in bed! I LOVED that! And one Sunday morning by the bed there was a new pocket watch somebody had given my daddy and it had writing on the back.

...the stairway in the big old house with a landing where it turned directions. One day I fell from the top step to the landing and I remember being GLAD that stairway turned directions! Just like times when I've been glad when life "turned directions," you know!

I'm grateful for her memories, her voice in my head, even still. But there are still times when all I really want is to feel her arms around my neck and hear her tell me that she loves me.