I remember the tears and incessant screaming. He was just a month old and I was afraid colic was going to kill us all. He only slept tummy down on my lap as I patted his bottom in a distinct rhythm. Pat pat- pat, pat pat- pat. We did this same routine for hours at a time until he felt soothed enough and was able to fall asleep for the next 4 hours. That sleep was cherished, even dreamt about while dreaming. Nevertheless, I knew. I knew like every other mother knows. My boy was destined for something great. He was so strong. His vocal cords were proof of that. I adored him.
He was a fast gainer and I started putting cereal in his milk earlier than I would have liked in order to fill his tummy. I can still hear his milk drinking gulps. Baby food soon followed of which he was a huge fan. Hawaiian Delight was his favorite. Peas; however, were a no-go.
Sometimes we took naps together. His body molded into mine. We slept soundly, hearts beating in sync.
In hindsight, I should have known. He was so protective of those he loved, his country being one. Of course he wanted to serve his country. It only made sense. My history-buff son knew more about his Nation’s history than most people his age.
So, when he enlisted and chose the Marines, I wasn’t surprised. I also knew that at some point during his career, he’d deploy to some foreign nation. But that time seemed so far away and I couldn’t really see that far.
Today is the day. He is on his way to some foreign lands. I’m reminded by the Dr Seuss book, “Oh, the Places You’ll Go”. Maybe Dr Seuss had a child and knew what every parent goes through as he wrote, “you’ll be on your way, you’ll be seeing great sights, you’ll join the high fliers who fly to high heights”.
I’ve talked to him half a dozen times in the last day and a half in his preparation to leave. I’ve cried every day. It’s a hurt deep in my chest. I kept telling him to “be safe”, “please be safe”. As he was growing up, I could see the dangers coming and could help him navigate choppy waters. I can still see the dangers. But, I’m not there to help him navigate those waters. Where he goes, I can only follow in my heart.
He’s a strong Marine, his father reminds me. I know he is, but he’s still just my baby. He still looks to me for reassurance and advice. What if he needs me and I can’t get to him. Nevertheless, I’m so proud. He is strong, kind and honorable.
Joy in the Journey 