Clear as a Bell

So how are you doing?  Oh that is a loaded question!  Granted, it is a simple sentence of just 4 words.  However, it is also so complicated.  To answer it with complete candor, I am barely keeping it together.  Yes, I walk the dog, clean the house, go to work, put on events, enjoy a flea market, but  . . .  I am rarely o.k.  I think about my boy 24/7, and when I say 24/7, I mean it.  I have not seen much sleep in quite a few weeks.  I am up all night thinking about him; I am at work thinking about him; I am driving in the car thinking about him.

I miss him deeply and the daily connection that we don't have at this time.  However, tonight we had a great call and I heard a strong and clear voice on the other side of the phone.

He is adjusting to the new school and environment well and even getting himself on the school's honor roll.  He is taking new subjects such as Spanish and piano, and enjoying the "The Cask of Amontillado" by Poe, after working on a paper based on Beowulf.  Dark work for the Halloween season?

I am deeply moved by how comfortable he feels at his new school and while there will be bumps along the way, I am thrilled that tonight he was confident and happy.

Part of this process for me is to find comfort and meaning during this time for him and for myself.  I am on that path, but I have just stepped across the starting line.  It is a long race--and I have nothing but time.

"Awareness leads to honesty," no truer words have been said.

The Blue Skies of Skype and the Mountain Ranges of Utah

Today we had our first Skype conversation with our son, some 14 days of saying goodbye at his new school.  Seeing that beautiful face, nice new haircut, and familiar smile was great.  It was also hard as all I wanted to do was reach through the screen and kiss that face.

He's enjoying school, in geometry (glad he doesn't need my help!),  learning piano, and having just completed a report on Beuwolf.  He has been playing on the flag-football team and even smiled when I asked if he liked his weekly collages I have been creating by cutting up is anime magazines.

Fries are being made and connections are being tested.  As with any new group dynamic.  He can see the mountains with their fresh snow and looks forward to winter activities such as snowboarding.

This all sounds great, and it is.  However, I wish to be part of it, rather than hear about it.  I will take what I get and I wonder if he has the same conviction of our family being so far away.  I can only hope so.


What was telling, was that he started doing some similar behaviors at his new school as previous schools.  What is very important and impressive, is that they are aware of this quickly and have put into place a plan right away.  This leaves me hopeful that the school is a right fit.

At least until I disagree with something -- which will happen.  I have been fortunate to meet other parents of kids at this school in Los Angeles and they have been a great resource.  The saying, "it takes a village" is quite trite - however very true. 

The saying, "it takes a village to raise a child" is frequently attributed to being an African proverb, but there are many African societies with proverbs which translate to 'It takes a village...':

• In Lunyoro (Banyoro) there is a proverb that says 'Omwana takulila nju emoi,' whose literal translation is 'A child does not grow up only in a single home.' 
• In the Nigerian (Igbo) culture and proverb "Ora na azu nwa" which means it takes the community/village to raise a child. The Igbo's also name their children "Nwa ora" which means child of the community.
• In Kihaya (Bahaya) there is a saying, 'Omwana taba womoi,' which translates as 'A child belongs not to one parent or home.' 
• In Kijita (Wajita) there is a proverb which says 'Omwana ni wa bhone,' meaning regardless of a child's biological parent(s) its upbringing belongs to the community. 
• In Swahili, the proverb 'Asiyefunzwa na mamae hufunzwa na ulimwengu' approximates to the same.

From my pied-à-terre, the proverb has a deep meaning as well. 

My son's room with this view.

Altered States: California & Utah

It has been 8 days since we enrolled our son in a new school out of state.   When you lose a parent as an adult you mourn your past.  You mourn your own childhood, your foundational memories, and from when you came.  When you are separated from your child earlier than planned, you mourn your future.  By no means is my son's attendance at a school in another state equal to the loss of a child, however, an unplanned separation has similar elements.

My son is a very social child, making friends wherever he goes and easily adapting to new environments.  It is the sustaining these environments that are a challenge.  I hear that all is going well, friends are being made, football is being played, and there has even been a visit to the nurse.  All very normal behaviors.  That is great!

However, seeing that face every day and watching that boy asleep is a large adjustment.  Hearing about the mundane, the everyday, the small and minute facial changes are now lost to me.  Watching him morph from a child to a young man won't happen on my watch.  It will be done from afar and I miss the immediacy of our relationship.

Saying good-bye to him was gut wrenching.  I tried my best to keep a "stiff upper lip" but that was futile.  Hugging him and not wanting to let go was a bit overwhelming to him.  I just couldn't stop holding him.  He pulled away and told said to me, "it is o.k., it is just like college."

Coming back and being in my home the last eight days, I feel lost, unmoored, as if I have lost a limb.  I miss his voice, his smell, his looming body.  I miss watching him sleep, dance, his ideas and thoughts.  I miss the metamorphosis into a young man and I miss the successes at school and with friends.  I just miss a lot.