So Many Joshuas, revisited

Back many years ago, I wrote this poem about my oldest son Joshua:


So Many Joshuas
　
Tonight I put my Josh to bed.
I tuck him in and kiss his head.
I read a chapter of his book.
Then as he prays steal one last look.
I know this Joshua can not stay.
A new Josh greets each coming day.
Eight years of photos on the shelf
Show how the scene repeats itself.
Infants, toddlers, little boys
With pacis, balls, and action toys
All smile from behind the glass
As if they knew they weren't to last.
So many Joshuas in a row.
Did each one know I loved him so?
Did each one know how much I prayed
That he would never ever grow away?
And will the new ones know that - gosh,
My heart has room for every Josh.

I think he was in fourth or fifth grade when Rachel and I were asked to write a poem about him for some project his teacher was working on. As usual, when it comes to writing, Rachel passed the task off to me. At the time, I was suffering from the loss of two babies. No don't grab a tissue-they didn't die on me. They just "grew away". Jared, my youngest, was four or five at the time, and had left that adorable phase of toddlerhood and grown into a young boy. You parents out there know what I am saying. My babies were now gone.

I don't really care what kind of parent you are. If you spent any time caring for your infant offspring at all, you must know the burning desire, make it a longing, to hold a baby in your arms and rock him. Don't get me wrong, I don't want to go through the daily grind of new parenthood all over. I just really want to hold a baby in my arms for about five minutes each day.

My fellow CIT and Facebook buddy, John Moran, has a new baby daughter. He affectionately calls her "Peanut" and constantly posts wonderful expressions of those special new feelings he is experiencing. It both fills me with joy to see him go through those wonderful things that I also experienced starting eighteen years ago, and, at the same time, breaks my heart. It breaks my heart because those days are only memories for me. It breaks my heart because I know that he will look back in eighteen years and feel this same pain, this same sense of loss. Of course, I am mature enough to realize there is no loss. I lived those early years of my sons' lives. More than any other events of my life, they are my treasured moments.

I think I set myself up to go through this. Rachel and I are the type of parents who place their children's existence in the very center of our universe. Every thing we have done, every dollar we have spent, and every decision we have made for the last eighteen years has been driven by our concerns for our family. Not everyone is like that. I have good friends whose children are satellites that revolve around them. They live for themselves first, and their kids seem to be in on a pass. Don't take this wrong. I am not saying they care or love their children any less than we ours, it is just a different family dynamic.

Well, where does this leave me today? I am a 50-year-old man who will drive his firstborn son to Austin tomorrow and hand him over to the University of Texas. Josh will be there for orientation for three nights. I should be crying over this. Have I not watched another legion of Joshua's vanish before my eyes? He is suddenly more of a man now, not a child at all. I should be on my knees like Scarlet Ohara, throwing dirt, and cursing my wretched existence. But, I am not. I have learned something in my last two decades, that I only had inklings of when I wrote the line, "My heart has room for every Josh". I have learned that I love my son more than anything on this earth. I have learned that I love watching him grow into the wonderful man he is and will be. I have learned that I can't wait to meet the Josh that falls in love, the Josh that gets married, the Josh that becomes a successful man, and most of all, the Josh who becomes a father. Looking back in sorrow has been replaced by looking ahead in wonder.

John Moran, you are a lucky man. Treasure your Peanut. Have more Peanuts. Make their lives the center of your universe and live every moment of them. Our children are the most important reason for our very existance. No other accomplishments in our lives will surpass that. Gotta love it!