Its funny we talk about our kids in food terms so often. Its starts with the bun in the oven analogy, the apple of our eye, the icing on the cake , the best thing since sliced bread. Maybe because food is survival and your child is the continuation of your line, maybe its because there's an intimacy in sharing food and family. Maybe we are all just hungry from keeping up with our kids, who knows but today as I struggle some of these analogies fit.
My son was never a bun in my oven, he was my take and bake. I think that is the best part of parenting , taking something so raw , putting time and attention into it, moving it to a delicious and complete end. That pie in the sky and here is where the mental images stop being cute......
When people talk pie , everyone gets excited about the crust. You made that yourself, it's so flakey , so perfect , so crinkled ( ok I don't make crust) so perfectly browned. We get hyper focused on this thing which is fairly bland, crumbles and burns easily and without filing just is meh. We do that with ourselves as humans: hyper focused on the crust . How rich, what color, what it dates, how it looks. We give a lot of pass to a great looking "crust" that package they sell us. We spend so much time making that perfect crust. But its what fills us that makes us great. What ingredients go into creating our core. Our crust could be flawless but our filling racist, misogynistic, homophobic, elitist, or just unkind. We are not buying into the whole pie, the person. And that is so sad to me.
My son was a pre made crust. Ingredients unknown, put in a state of frozen for years, rolled out , torn in places, strong in others. But his filings, came from a wealth of ingredients deep within him , quality, purity and true. Not perfect, but real. My son knew to hold doors, help folks with packages, seat an elder in a walker and get them a plate, hug a homeless vet because compassion outweighed "perceived germs" We supported his recipe but these things all came from him, his spots where he believed compassion mattered more..
His playfulness was a lightness, his concerns and worries about his life and his place in it deep and complex.He was a gift meant to share, with family and friends. While he had his worries, cracks in the crust so you will,: he saw his whole self ,what filled him, gave him joy as abundant. He wanted to share that. At his service so many friends and family shared how at 19 he would just walk with friends male or female, family members too , hand in hand,arms linked. Why people miss my son is the comfort he gave to them in happiness and sadness. My son had people skills that most adults strive for, its hard to live without his infectious joy.
Why I struggle today is the world right now wants crust. There is so much hate, fear , ignorance just swirling around us . I know at times I am guilty of it , we all are. But people are taking pleasure in this crust , enjoying making each other feel uncomfortable, unworthy unloved. We hurt and judge others cause we can't deal with our own filings. My son at his core believed no one was any better than anyone. Your gender, your color, your religion, your politics, your looks , your money , your demons; none of that mattered to kiddo. If you had a spark of joy or good within you , he gravitated to it , put up with or rolled his eyes at the rest . But he wanted all our gooey good centers. He wanted peace with his world and the bigger picture. He may have debated but respected others views even when they baffled him. He was part of the small percent of new thinkers on this planet , that had the power to pull us all out of this oven of hate before the burn is too deep and permanent. And that is where my anger and bias right now lie. There are so many negative, hate filled folks running amok and they live. My peaceful warrior does not. It shatters my faith that good people are supported and protected. It rips at me , I struggle. So much evil that could leave this world but instead love and light go. Off the menu . without him the choices for me narrow and sorrow. I struggle to take his core and absorb it because my wall of sadness and loss and anger is still thick . For him natural , for me a learning curve. Right now a new recipe of absorbing this grief while adding in elements of my child to make me a better person, to be a tribute as his parent to the man my son was becoming. So my pie in the sky angel , I will work on the recipe.
I love you Michael, I miss you Michael. I 'm trying I promise
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