Happy Birthday, Son

It’s March 28th, 2024…of course – the best day, as days go. I feel the spirit of your mom deeply today and I am full of emotions of sadness and loss. These emotions go with emotions of joy and happiness about you and your life and my honor to be your father.

It’s a gray day today, just like the day you were born 14 years ago. It’s fitting that one of the gifts you received today is the coziest blanket ever because your mother was a pro at “cozy” and the blanket, from her sister ( your Aunt ) Monica. We sat with you, more like layed with you that day and for three subsequent days as your mom healed and rested and as we got some basic know how from the nurses.

It was March madness season and your mom and I loved to watch basketball together. We love to watch all sports together, but basketball was special and it became even more special because, well, because we were now a family and everything…EVERYTHING was more special.

Your mom was so beaten up from your birth. Not because you were rough on here, but because birthing a human is rough business and your mom was determined to have you in as natural a way as possible. One of the things your mother was most proud of was her choices around being pregnant with you and birthing you. She was the most joyful I’d ever experienced her when she was carrying you inside her, even though she weighed 40 lbs more than normal, even though she was uncomfortable, hot, sweaty…she loved every single minute. She ate the most delicious and healthy foods because she knew you were eating too.

I used to cook for her and our friend Franca. I would cook the most delicious vegan pancakes…I know, I know – how can that be true? I mean anything with “Vegan” in it’s name has to be awful and for the most part, son, that is true. But when it came to cooking these women breakfast, man I went into another mode and cranked out the most lovely, thick and fluffy and crunchy and maple syrup covered pancakes and fruit shakes, don’t forget the fruit shakes. We would sit around the table at Franca’s house, a 300+ year old house in the Stockade District of Schenectady and we would eat and laugh and rub Sally’s stomach and call you “the Grape”, “Butt Boy”, “Bartlett” and all means of loving names. Your mom and I would look at each other with love and purpose and with great excitement at your coming.

You are off at the Mountain today with your two good friends. I hope (and know) you’re having a great time. It’s been more than a year since Mom died. I still can’t believe it my boy. Is that strange? Sometimes I think it is and other times I simply know I will never get over it. I don’t know if I’ve told you this before but a friend of mine said that losing someone that is dear to you is like then having an actual handicap, like a disability. I really relate to that. There’s nothing I can do about it but learn to live my life with it.

I worry about you. I wonder how your doing inside, deep in your heart. I wonder how hurt your heart feels and if you’ve found a way to access that pain. Sometimes I think that maybe you don’t know it’s there, maybe you’ve hidden it away because it was too painful. I could totally understand that and I’ve done that before…I really don’t know James Arthur and so I try not to put anything on you that’s not yours. What I do know is how much I love you and how beautiful I think you are. What I do know is how much your mom loved you and how beautiful she always thought and thinks you are.

Honestly I don’t know if your mom “thinks” anymore. But she is with me, I know this because I feel her and I see her, in dreams, in life, I see her, I feel her, so in some way she is there and I can’t know if she is or isn’t. Her words to you make me think she is always there, “James Arthur, my heart helped to make your heart, I will always be with you”.

Our love to you my son, on your 14th.

Dad, with Mom…