Part Six: Jason and Joshua, revisited.
I'm sitting here writing, it's Thanksgiving Day,
1987,remembering the past few years and realizing I'd
not written much
about my sons, intentionally, or otherwise. Those of you who've read the other
works
perhaps noticed. To be frank, it wasn't possible to continue
on with the birthday poems because
writing had taken the back seat to painting, so to speak.
Back in the summer of 1984 we had our first vacation fiasco and it's really
taken me this long to get over it. It seemed to me that the birthday poems
and their meanings had really become a habit rather than
what they were suppose to be.
I stopped doing them, reluctantly. This was the first break
with the writing patterns I'd developed and
could not have been more significant for my life, and love
for my children are the same.
I've known people who do not see their children and they
strike me as missing, sad, lonesome people.
I was not one of them. I take up where I left off, two years
ago, and tell you of my sons.
Jason is nine and still very much the little man. He said to
me, several years ago "Dad, do you remember
the couch you had when you lived with Mom?". I said I
did, and he said, "Well, when you left Mom gave
it to me. " My nine year old had taken my place as his
mother wished. This sad turn of events has and
still does caused him to be concerned with many worries not
usual for a young boy. This has bonded him
to his mother in a way I can understand but can do nothing
about. He is devoted to her and his link
to me is confusing. When we're together I feel him being
torn. He wants to be with me but somehow
he's betraying his mother. He's nine and there's no way to
talk about this. I just want to hug him and
tell him why he feels the way he does and make all the pain
go away. I hope several years from now we'll be able to talk about this. Maybe
he would have read the previous words. Being a parent is difficult, being
non-custodial, taking time when you can get it. and seeing
and feeling reasons for things not talked about because they wouldn't be
understood, having to wait for the proper moment, it’s heartbreaking. Jason is
like me, he's interested in sports of all type and has been
involved with various teams over the past
few years. He started with baseball ( I got to coach) which
was great, nothing quite like having three of
your own guys on second base, all at the same time. He moved
on to basketball and has just finished
his first season of football. He always wants to be the best
player on the team and tries so hard. I wish he could just enjoy the sport for
the sport and not worry about his performance or results. He's anxious to
please, a common trait we share. Listen to me, I'm forty- two and still suffer
from that 'need to please" complex, Jason's nine. Perhaps, one day we can
work on this together? If I could have a wish for Jason
it would be that he could live life as a nine year old
without having to take care of his mother. God, that would feel good.
Joshua is eight and very different. He was only six months
when I left, a bitter pill for their mother to
swallow. She had two small boys to care for and I was not
around except at the appointed legal times.
Jason had been appointed man of the house; Joshua, the baby.
Joshua didn't talk until he was three
years old, and when he did his brother answered for him,
most of the time. I mention this because
several times, during these past few years, their mother and
I had battles about Joshua being ignored
She always denies this. The position of second fiddle to his
brother, combined with a bright mind gives
Joshua a laid back attitude towards everything and a general
ability to accept anything for what is,
not what he'd like it to be. I think, in his eight year,
he's more at peace with himself that his brother.
I've seen Joshua sort his way through these past several
years with various habits. He twitched his head, batted his eyelashes and
finally began to make small noises on a frequent basis. All these were the
attempts of a small boy to gain attention, which he did,
finally leading to a confrontation. To sedate or
not to sedate, that was the question.
Joshua was NOT given sedatives, thank God, and it was worth
the fight. As always Joshua was most
involved in this episode and least affected. He watches
people as they listen to him and then begins to
say outrageous things to see how they will react. There were
so many times he amazed me with the
unusual things he said. I suppose that the state of the
world he arrived in, being mostly ignored, and the
way he was brought
up, playing second fiddle, prepared him for
the future. His nervousness has
Vanished and he is at peace with himself and others around
him. His natural abilities and newer sense
Of awareness give him, at eight, a sense of self. If I could
have a wish for Joshua it would be simple.
Never lose that sense of play; it will take him wherever he wants.
Conclusion:
It's late February, about the 21st of 1988, the holiday
season is over. Life, in general, is coupled with a
new sense of Balance. Once again, having so much happening,
rushing to get started on the next efforts.
For those of you with me for the duration, you'll realize
this set of words no longer contains
the poems, used for so long, but rather describes, in the
best English I can come with, a true love for
painting.
It has occurred to me, as a matter of fact, looking at the
works of Matisse and Picasso, that Vincent
needed recognition more than he needed art and when it
didn't happen, he chose to remove himself.
If he'd been stronger, not needed so much, the world would
have had thousands, not hundreds of pieces.