Today is my son's birthday.
It is a day filled with joy and sorrow.
Joy as i remember his birth. What a sweet boy he was. Not perfect, but a good boy.
I remember toilet training him (I hate the phrase 'potty training') it took a week.
He was a happy, active and friendly boy. He would coast through school until March and then boom! out of the shoot like a race horse and finish the year with B'. There was one year, he didn't do well and was kept back. But we were dealing with bullies at the time, which played into his bad grades.
When he was 12, one afternoon, after school, he came to me and said: "Mum, you and Gran (his name for his Grandmother) are right. I can't get good grades to make you proud. I have to do good in school for me." To this day, I don't know what clicked, but he was a great student from then on.
From the first time he saw a Sailor, my son wanted to go into the Navy. Three weeks before he graduted, he told me he signed up. I was both proud and scared at the same time.
"O mum, don't worry, we're not at war."
Years later, he would indeed see combat.
He was so funny; could make everything fun. Just like his step-father, Mark.
After he joined the navy, things changed. Slowly I began to lose my son. For reasons unbeknow to any of up, first it was me and then the whole family.
I am not here to put my son down for his actions. His reasons are his own. And I respect his space.
But how I wish I could say Happy Birthday, son. Give him a gift. Bake him a cake.
Give him a hug.
So, I am left with just writing the words here and on facebook, with the hopes that he will read them and know that there is still a place at our home, in our lives for him.
That his mum loves him.