Michael

Michael will turn 18 in less than 3 months. He will become, in the eyes of the world, a man. In June he will graduate from high school and begin his adult life. He’s still not sure what he wants to do, Marines, or college, but in June he hopefully will have made up his mind. Yes, in the eyes of the world, he will become an ADULT, in my eyes however, he is still that little boy with eyes too big for his face. With curly light brown hair that had streaks almost blond highlights running through it. He will forever be the little boy, who would just come and stand next to, or in front of me, not talking, but knowing that I would understand what he wanted, a smile, a quick hug, a hand through his hair, or just to hand me his latest acquisition, a frog or a worm…….lol.
He was the easiest of my children and yet maybe the hardest. He never demanded anything from anyone and because of that, I did whatever I could to make him happy, content, to make him feel safe. I don’t think he ever really felt safe in this world. HE never "needed" me as the others did. He was always off somewhere deep inside himself where no one was allowed to go and sometimes, he’d allow me in just so far, before his eyes shut down and he withdrew. He’d tell me of a dream where a big bird came and pecked at his window with his beak and take him and his best friend Tony on these wonderful adventures during the night. There was the time we were in the car and when I told him to get out of his booster seat, he informed me that he was , “having a great dream and he wasn’t ready for it to end”, and so, we sat there, Mikey and me, until he was ready to come back from his adventure. He was the one that when he was sick, he asked for nothing. He would just go off somewhere and lie down until whatever it was passed.  When I would ask if he wanted juice or food, he would tell me not to bother, he’d get it himself. So of course, I catered to him even more. I understood Mikey then, even as his aloneness worried me. I WAS Mikey.  I knew how my large family totally overwhelmed (and yes, scared me) and so for years I retreated behind a book, behind my imagination, behind the stories I made up in my head, behind a wall of silence. I went into myself and pretty much stayed there for most of my childhood. So, I KNOW Mikey. When relatives demanded he hug them hello and goodbye I told them to leave him alone, that when he was ready he would come to them.
In the first grade, his teacher informed me that she was splitting Mikey and his best friend Tony up. She was putting them in different classes, she thought (correctly) that they depended on each other way too much, to the point of excluded any other child who tried to befriend either one of them. When she told me this, she had tears in her eyes. She said that when they found out they wouldn’t be together for second grade; Mikey came to her crying, begging her to switch them into the same class. She told me, this is a child who would not go out of his way to speak to her or ask for help, yet here he was crying to be with his friend. She almost caved in she said, but she knew they needed to be on their own, and she was right. They were way too dependent on each other, they finished each others thoughts, Tony protected Mikey even back then, and he is still doing it to this day. Even now, he will take the fall, just to keep Mikey safe.
Michael, growing up had a very high tolerance for pain which also scared me. He ripped the skin off the palm of his hand on a playground and when a paramedic who was there (we were at a baseball game with Chris) poured antiseptic on his wound, this child did not cry. He just held out his shaking hand and took it. For a second after his hand was wrapped, I got caught up in getting the baby taken care of and lost track of MIkey. When I handed the baby to hubs, I asked him where Mikey was and he didn’t know.  I went looking for him and found him sitting on a bench under a tree just holding his hand out and looking at it. I went over to him, sat next to him, and then moved closer still until our legs were touching. With Mikey you never made sudden movements, or he would shut you out. Then I put my arm around him and told him that no one was there but me and it was OK to cry, and so we did. Him for the pain and me for him allowing me to comfort him and for him being in so much pain.
Michael did go on to make other friends and he and Tony were never again in the same class. But since Tony lives down the street, he and Mikey have always remained best friends. When the friends come over now, they call me Mom, and then fight about who was my “first” “other” child. But it has always been Tony.
While everyone and yes, me too, see the man my son is becoming, I still see the little boy he was. The wide eyed child of 1 learning to walk, the 8 yr old making his first communion with his shirt untucked and his tie half off, cause he just didn’t want it on, the 9 year old who handed me worms and frogs, treasures of any little boy who laughed his head off when I screamed, the 10 yr old who (along with everyone else) told me I was crazy when I said I wanted his hand x-rayed as I thought is fingers were broken…they were: 2 fingers, 4 fractures,  He’s had a rough year, my son, the death of his best friend Rich, dealing with the guilt of not being able to save him and then going through the accident this July. He has pulled away from us and has been for the past 4 years, needing us but not really wanting us. Needing, SOMETHING, but not really sure what. He’s searching right now, for his way, his path, his truth, Some things I don’t like and let him know it, but for the most part is on his own because that’s how it wants it. He wants us there, but not really. I understand that, I really do. But it is so hard to let him go. Much harder than it was for Chris. There is still so much I want him to know, things he never wanted to hear. He knows no matter what, we are there for him, we’ve shown it in countless ways, yet still, loving Mikey is easy and also one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.
One of my fondest memories is of Christmas 1990; Mikey was all of 22 months old. He was so overwhelmed by Christmas and the presents he got that he came over to where I sat on the floor and curled up in my arms. Someone, either hubby or MIL took a picture of us sitting there. Even now, I smile at the sight of it, because it was HE who sought out comfort from the confusion of the time in MY arms. And when  you all see the man he is and will be, I will forever see the little boy who curled up in my arms on Christmas morning.