Bittersweet

My eyes were watery, as I looked down past my surgical scars.  The top of your head dropped, as you focused.  You were reluctant to do this for me, but only for an instant.  When I explained that I needed your help, you went straight to work.  You were diligently trying to tug down the seemingly too small of a sock over the slightly swollen foot of your Father’s left leg. It seemed so natural for you.  The sense of service you demonstrated this morning may be your greatest gift you have to offer the World.  It could possibly be the one thing that brings joy and satisfaction to you and the whole world.

Maybe it’s the surgery.  Having my life taken away from me for a few hours as my body is cut, rearranged, sewn back together.  Maybe it’s the pain meds.  I am getting emotional thinking of you lately.  Maybe it’s because it’s your birthday soon.  Maybe it’s because you are so noticeably upset at both my initial injury and my subsequent surgery.  To see you break down  in tears and fear as your Father’s body fails. This morning I am even little fearful.  More concerned, now that I have been reading about the burning linear pain running down the back of my knee.  The probable cause would seem to be a blood clot.  The idea that I may have a condition that may cause a condition that could end my life, is as close I ever have been to death.  Even if I am totally blowing this pain out of proportion, the effect it is having regarding my perspective is sobering.  It doesn’t take much to be reminded of how delicate it all is.  I can see the distress in your eyes when they scan my new six inch scar.  I can see you turn your head to deny something.  I see you, then decide, to overcome your fear and turn me me with tears in your eyes telling me how scared and sad you are to see me this way.  It is a sweet, sweet sadness that you emote and it draws my love to the surface.

I mean, life will go on.  I believe my life will go on after this one.  My love for you will certainly go on, if only in the form of  some words I have written in a blog.  Hopefully the love I planted inside your heart through my actions will endure.  The current form of it all though, of anything you choose to look at, well it is changing as you are looking straight at it. I see that everyday with you.  The expressions you make with your face, the stride you take while walking are different, it seems, every time I look at you.  This doesn’t make me sad.  I am happy for you and your growth.  I don’t wish that you remain unchanged, yet my own life change can be a frightening proposition.  

I get sad when I think of not being around for you.  I desire so strongly to be able to assist you.  I ache at the thought of not being able to tell you how much I love you.  I tear up when I think of you without a father. You are a sweet, compassionate and brave young boy Owen.  You are both curious and repelled by the issues of mortality that present themselves so early in life. You are both an expression and a promoter of Love. You remain a fantastic artist, dancer, lego engineer and singer.  You are simply more than I can express and, so too, my Love for you.  I try to convey my appreciation of your presence in my life.  If I had a million years to write and record it would still not be enough medium to fully convey my gratitude.