Birthday Of A Scorpio

It’s October already and I can barely believe it!  Each year now, the months seem to visit me closer together, with fewer days and less getting done in my not so busy life.  I love all the seasons, though summer could be much cooler and a lot less humid and I wouldn’t complain :) 

October is special to me though, not just because it’s the middle of Spring, but because it is the month I got to meet, after a forever of waiting, my beautiful baby boy.  It will be thirty six years ago this month that we were formally introduced as mother and son, though we had known each other, somehow; informally, intrinsically, during those months he took to grow himself inside me with his characteristic enthusiasm and the  joie de vivre I would come to know and love more with each passing day.  Something like osmosis…

I didn’t think I could feel anywhere near the depth of emotion and deepest love that burned into my soul and my heart as I held his small body protectively close to mine in those instants that followed his birth.  For a brief second as our eyes locked, secrets were shared between us from a thousand lifetimes, and time stood still, until each of us went quietly about beginning life as mother and babe.  It was a magical and mystical time for me and each year I get to relive the anticipation and excitement I felt then, as his birthday draws nearer and nearer.

I am not unique, just another mum who loves their child…but having him was my greatest achievement ever; of that I am certain.  I wish him eons of happiness, a plethora of people to love him and care about him and myriad amazing birth anniversaries. 

I have yet to finalize his birthday gift for 2010, but just the sound of his voice gives me more joy and delight  than I can ever put into words. How do I match that?  With more love than I thought it possible to feel for another human being would be a start....

William

Who is William?  He was my darling Dad, better known to all his clients as Bill or Billy or Pa to his family.  He was six feet tall, slender as a willow and towered over my tiny mum, much to our delight.  They were a handsome couple back in the day and cut quite a rug on the dance floor.  

Bill was a professional golfer; not the kind who plays in tournaments, but the kind who taught others the fine art of frustration that only knocking a small ball around acreage can bring!  He was very good at it; a patient teacher who encouraged, coaxed and cajoled accuracy and finesse from the inept and the talented.  He felt every stroke they hit, winced at the clunkers that besiege all golfers and smiled broadly when a sweet one left the wood.  I loved, as a youngster, to hang out with him on the course, even if it was just to wheel his buggy or watch his skill around the bunkers and greens.  At the short game, he was a master.

I remember waiting up as a small child, for Dad to come home and continue teaching me how to whistle.  It took a while, but I mastered the rubbery lips and hisses that were my beginning, with Dad's loving help.  I was about five years old...I can still whistle to this day, though it's mostly to recall Rusty at the dog park.  I get my love of animals and nature from my father, especially dogs and horses.  He was a country lad, who left school at fourteen to pursue his golfing dream, and was still teaching ten days before he passed away from a heart attack at the age of seventy-six......

He lived long enough to see my son Zachary born and growing, and was a loving grandfather to Lynne, Ann, Christopher, Julian, Kate and Antony.  There were also great grandchildren: Paul, Timothy, Chris, Cameron, Jeannie.  He did not live to see Matthew and Rachael, as they came along later, nor did he meet his great great granddaughter Isabelle, who is only four months old.  He loved all of us equally and was proud of our achievements and forgiving of our shortcomings.  I was very close to my Dad; we had a special bond after my mum passed away...That awful loss nearly destroyed him, but he fought on valiantly without her for another eighteen years, before the battle against loneliness and sorrow made his strong heart finally fail.  There was never anyone else for Dad; never another Jeanne.

I think of them both every day and hope they are happy with their youngest child.  If they loved me only half as much as they loved each other, I will die a happy and fulfilled woman.