What I Leave Behind

Today was Christopher’s “Senior Pictures” day at school… yesterday when I took him over to the salon to get his haircut, the hairdresser commented that I must “be proud that he made it” – I thought that was ironic, because he “hasn’t made it yet” – Christopher has a very long track record of abysmal grades; not for lack of ability, but rather a lack of motivation and focus.

He looked very handsome, very “adult” in his jacket, shirt & tie we bought a few days ago… when I saw him try the clothes on, I squealed and got all teary-eyed like any proud mom would do – Christopher’s response: Aww, Mom (as if to say C’mon! You are embarrassing me!). That’s the perks of being a mother, the privilege of causing embarrassment to your offspring. Like with anything else, those uncomfortable moments are important in order to build their character (my perception).

Christopher is like me in all the ways that count. I know this because I get feedback from those around me who interact with us on a regular basis. First and foremost, he’s got a big heart. His mother’s heart. Which clues me in? The kid needs a lot of love – my challenge, given my lack of developed ability to reveal the love I carry internally for him. Christopher is also extremely intelligent. He scores very high on testing; his grades suck because he doesn’t like to do homework. My friends tell me lots of people who have that experience in school are “bored, and once they go on to college or wherever, they end up being very successful.” So I have some hope for his future despite his crappy grades. He’s got a great sense of humor, and I am sensing he might also be empathetic – maybe not as severe as I seem to be – but I can tell when he goes out of his way to tell me something funny to pull a smile or laugh out of me. The other day in the car, Christopher tells me (out of the blue), “Mom, I like your smile.” Just like that. What 17-year old boy says something like that to his mother? I don’t really know, but I would be willing to bet it doesn’t happen all that often.

Because I have an “active and imaginative mind” I sometimes ponder what would have happened if it was me that had died instead of the Bunny. Truthfully, I always thought I would be the one to die first – the Bunny was very healthy (until that last year when he rode his motorcycle more than anything else); prior to that he would go on regular 50- or 100-mile bike rides, work out at the gym a few times a week, and try to eat right. He didn’t smoke or drink stuff much stronger than a few beers at a time – he got all of the “party” lifestyle out of his system way before he and I met, which was good for me. Timing really IS everything. I ponder that as well – had I met the Bunny earlier in his life (and mine), I would not have gotten involved with him. Or I would have gotten involved with him and sustained a lot of emotional damage. Funny how things turn out.

Me, on the other hand, have been diabetic for the last going on eighteen or so years – diabetes is a funny disease; if you manage it well (i.e. keep your blood sugars in control) it will force you to exist in a very healthy state. But it takes discipline. It takes… motivation and focus. So, in my case I have been very inconsistent with my diabetes management. I don’t fit the normal “diabetic person” profile (my perception) – I’m not overweight, and I’m on the young side (to be as severe a diabetic as I am - I take about three shots of insulin every day). I often think “this body is wasted on me” – in a physical and even emotional way. But again, that universe – knowing things I just don’t know and the reasons for why things are the way they are. But I digress!

If the Bunny were here right now, typing on HIS blog about how his life had changed because HIS beloved wife had died… what stories would he tell? Would losing his mom force Christopher to “grow up fast” and mature, propelling him into the thoughtful, caring, balanced, responsible adult I hope he becomes? Would the church be packed for my services? Would anybody care, or notice I was gone?

There’s a quote I came across some time ago, from a guy by the name of Abiodun Mabadeje, from Nigeria (I don’t know Mr. Mabadeje’s claim to fame otherwise, but this quote really caught my attention): “The way to live is to make your presence felt while you are present, so that when you are absent your absence will also be felt.” I interpret that to mean “live with intention” – don’t skate through life, just minding your own business and keeping yourself separate from everyone else. It means to “jump into the fray” with both feet, and once your feet touch down on the earth to keep on moving. Moving forward. Nowhere in that quote does it say, “Shirley, you must do everything right” or “Shirley, live your life for the approval of others”… just live, and make it count.

One last thing I’ve noticed in Christopher that’s only recently cropped up: a love for music and singing. He’s MY son – no doubt about it. My legacy. My mark. And when I eventually DO die… I leave ME behind – in him.

The people who affect us, literally “scar” us for life. Hopefully those scars are earned in honorable battles that we win.