I have a 23 year old son living and attending school in the NC mountains. He is working this summer as a camp counselor at an adventure camp for kids with learning disabilities and ADD. He will spend his days rafting, kayaking, rock climbing, and camping in the back country. Tough life but he says he will muddle though.
He has grown into a wonderful person. Compassionate, conversational, kind, loving, and very smart. His gift is in working with the disabled, particularly children. His grades are strong and he is already active in his professional organizations. While I appreciate the person he has become, he wasn't always such a gem. In fact, for quite a number of years, he was a significant pain in the ass. For real.
On occasion, I tell him he is lucky to be alive. He is lucky I did not kill him at some point during his "bad boy" years. These days, he is lucky to be alive for different reasons. He regularly does rock climbing, crazy jumps into waterfalls, and probably other things its best for me to not know about. I try not to watch the videos he posts to his FaceBook page on his outdoor shenanigans.
Early on, I was concerned about his reaction to my diagnosis. I toyed with the idea of not telling him until treatment was done. But I became concerned that something bad might happen during the surgeries or treatment, and he would be angry forever that he wasn't told. He handled the news beautifully. He is an emotional rock. I underestimated him.
These days, while breast cancer is mucking with my life, I am surprised to find that talking to him - or better yet - seeing him, makes a significant difference in my mood. It makes me happy in a way that little else can these days. I have seen him three times since my diagnosis. Twice for a week and once for just a 1/2 day. I come away from those visits happy. I would feel happy to see him even if I were healthy, but somehow being sick makes it very different.
I look for the goodness in him. I look for signs that I've done my job as a parent, and if my life ended today, I would leave him in a good place to continue to grow as a human being and to maturely handle what life might throw at him. We are all going to lose our parents at some point. It's the natural cycle of life, how God intends it. Knowing he will handle losing me - whenever it might happen - without letting it ruin his life is very important to me.
I haven't always been able to use the word "mature" when referring to him, but now I think I can. It feels oh so good.
At last.
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