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| St. Peter, Piers' Patron |
(Monday, the 9th) I have spent most of the day not
thinking. I did many last minute errands for my son, not thinking about
it. I talked to my mother on the phone about nothing, not thinking
about it. I thought about all the things I was upset about, or stressed
about, or wanted to do that I couldn't right now, not thinking about
it.
I am sitting here eating chocolate chip cookies and
drinking milk and it is finally hitting me. My son, Piers, is gone.
Tomorrow, he'll be in San Antonio, Texas, Lackland Air Force Base to be
specific. My son aspires to be an Air Force Para rescue airman. I know
he can do well. I know his guardian angel and his patron saint (St.
Peter himself) and his confirmation saint (St. Ignatius) will be around
him and protect him. I'll be praying a Rosary everyday of basic
training for his well being.
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| St. Ignatius, his confirmation Patron |
I think about that tiny red-headed baby. That baby
was early. His skin was a little yellow, so we had to lay him in the
sun. We put a mattress in our living room, within the semi-circle of the
bay windows/doors. He would roll around, coo, and nap on that
mattress. Soon, his pale skin became rosy and beautiful. He was one of
the most beautiful babies in the world. His only equal: his 20 month
old brother with the milk chocolate hair and huge black eyes (they were
actually brown but so dark they almost looked black). The two boys were
fast friends. His older brother tried to share his favorite snack:
Cracklin' Oat Bran. Yes, I fished that out of the baby's mouth real quick.
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St. Walburga, mom's patroness
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Those two were thick as thieves after that. Piers
taught his older brother how to fill those terrible empty spaces on the
walls with crayon modern art. He also showed him how the crayons fit in
the VCR and the grate under the fire place. Unfortunately, he also
tested his poor brother's patience. Only parents of a biter understand
what I mean when I say, he was a biter. There is no sound like the
blood curdling scream of a toddler being bitten in the middle of his
back by his baby brother. I knew that pain. There was many an occasion
that my baby son bit me during feeding. It always came as a surprise,
and always painful. He'd wait until I was lulled into a false sense of
security and wham! he'd bite me again. Unfortunately, he bit his older
brother quite a few times, but his brother never bit him back or hit him
in revenge.
(written the morning he left March 10th)
As he grew, his bubbly, fun, friendly personality came through. Oh,
yes, he did have the "red head temper" but it was usually a flash and
then gone. He was a respectful and fun kid. The homeschool family that
we lived near lost out. He so, so much desired to be the friend of their
daughter of the same age. At 7, 8, 9, he wanted friends besides his
brothers and sister. How do you explain other people's eccentricities
about with whom their children will play and study. You can't explain
to an 8 year olds other family's snobbery or rejection. I've been hurt
so many times by other homeschooling moms that I am used to feeling and
being alone, but it is not easy to explain to a sweet, caring,
fun-loving kid that the "friend" is not rejecting you, it is the mom
that is the problem.
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| Immaculate Conception, Patroness of America |
He thrived socially in his one year of Catholic
school. He was happy to be in with the other kids. He did well in
school, but his brothers (grades 6 and 1) did not. Not only did it cost
too much but the kids education was lacking. So, we decided to
homeschool them again--after all if I'm going to be doing over three
hours of homework with the kids, I might as well homeschool them. Piers
did well at home, too, but he longed for adventure.
After
stubbornly refusing to send him to the public high school, I gave in in
the middle of his sophomore year. Since he could pass the school's
tests (for reasons that were not his fault) except biology (he got
credit for passing biology), he actually complete the four years of
requirements in the two and a half years at high school. He was on the
wrestling team, in ROTC, CAP, and did well in his classes. He grew into
a caring, loving, considerate, kind adult.
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| St. Brendan, brother's patron |
He graduated high school last year and decided to
join the Air Force. However, he didn't want just any job; he wanted
adventure. He joined the Air Force last Summer for pararescue. In the
meantime he worked at a Boy Scout camp for several weeks and got a job
at an adventure park in Oklahoma City. He really enjoyed being
outdoors. The adventure park had zip lines, rock climbing, and other
physical challenges. It was a perfect fit for him. Unfortunately, once
it got too cold the park closed for the winter. Now, all he had to do
was wait for his Air Force slot. For reasons I don't want to get into
here, he was told that he could not go to pararescue training. He was
deeply hurt and disappointed. He had looked forward to it for a few
months and then found out the Air Force didn't want him in that field.
He tried to deal with it. However, as things go in the military, they
changed their policy. He was in again! He was so excited and happy!
He worked hard, going to Crossfit every weekday morning at 6am. He built
up his muscles and his mind. He was so delighted that he was willing
to get his ducks in a row. He took college classes in the interim and
waited for April to come. He got news of the Air Force policy changing
back and a chance they would take his dream away from him again. His
recruiter acted fast and got him in a slot a month earlier--before the
rules could be changed again.
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| St. Florian, brother's confirmation patron |
Today, he left. His father, his sister,
his youngest brother, and I spent time with him at the MEPS station--the
processing center. He is at the airport right now awaiting his flight
to San Antonio. He is a man now, but mom can't help remembering the
tiny adorable toddler. My heart hurts, my soul aches, but I put him in
the Father's hands. Your children leaving home is an inevitability, but
it is wrenching all the same. I pray for him to be surrounded by
saints and that Christ will strengthen him.
I love you,
son. You are my heart and you are always welcome to call, email,
write, fb, visit, stay for a while. I wish I could keep you young, but I
am proud of the man you have become.
St. Michael, patron of the military, pray for him and protect him.
