May 23rd

This past Sunday was May 23rd.

That morning I sat having my tea and watching Jack play in the backyard. He was lining up all of his animals, counting off to four, and breaking into song over and over again. He sings with such gusto (and volume). And he spends most of the day singing, especially lately. I thought to myself how his singing reminds me of my father and I wondered if dad was anything like this as a young boy. Then it hit me that is was my father's birthday. I tried to imagine my father sitting there in the backyard with Jack -- what fun they would have together (and how often and loudly they would sing together)...what a kick my dad would get out of Jack.

The memory of my father is no longer tangible exactly -- it feels more like a memory of a memory. But how I yearn to have him sit with my little boy in his lap at least one time...singing robustly and bouncing Jack on his knee - -the way he did me when I was a little girl.

Sometimes (quite often) Jack wants something he cannot have or at least cannot have at that very moment (which is the only moment he understands) and he will stand there in such agony and cry to me, "Mama, I want it ... I...want...it...Mama...I want it" -- long, drawn-out words full of tears and so much unfulfilled wanting.

And that is how I want a moment together with my father and my son. I want it...I...want...it.

Yet the answer is the same as what I often say to Jack: "I know you do. I know you want it. But you can't have it." And I can't. I can't have it.

Later in the day Jack was standing so close to me as I sat on the ground so that our faces were almost touching and he was laughing at something he had done and saying, "I funny, Mama. I funny." And I felt my dad's presence so clearly for a moment that looking into Jack's eyes I almost said out loud, "Are you in there, dad?"

A little later Jack and I were playing in the yard while Rigo was working away in the garage. Jack tackled me and laid down so that his head was right next to mine and then he put his little hand on my face and looked me right in the eyes and said, "We have to look, Mama. We have to look for it." And he turned his head to look up at the sky.

I am not sure what we were looking for exactly...My little man is full of laughter and mystery and love and passion and unexpected insights ... and a little piece of my dad.