~ January, 2008
He’s the one who brought us together; the one who was the Best Man at our wedding; the one for whom our only wish was that would dance. He is my Angel. He is my J and today is his birthday.
The excitement that came with his birth has been overshadowed by none. The story behind him, the story with him, the story he writes each day of his life, the story that is his, he will willingly share with all those who ask, who wonder, who care. The life I see in his eyes show the curiosity, the sensitivity, the love and affection, the purity of his innocence, the glimpses of the thoughts we will never know, the silent if not softly spoken words that can never meet his lips.
If you are willing, he will profoundly open your eyes. Everything we miss, what we take for granted, the reminder that the little things are truly enormous. The flight of a plane. The gracefulness of metals clinging together, forcing themselves against the coldest of clouds, leaving their “footprints” in the sky. These airplanes, of all shapes, sizes and colors that fly above us. Sometimes they sound off from far away, bringing curious searching eyes to the skies looking for their display. “Look, do you see it? Do you see it?” pointing to the white streaks that mark the sky. The favor he affords you by ensuring you see this wonder above your head; don’t take it for granted, you’re letting it pass you by. It’s special. It’s enormous. See it through him. Yes, he will profoundly open your eyes.
His love of planes, helicopter, eagles and geese, all that fly; it’s amazing really, that we have these things in our world. He never takes it for granted. Sirens sound from passing fire trucks; the flashing lights of a police car or ambulance can spark an overthrow of excitement. The beauty in the lights, the sharpness of their colors, the rhythm in their dance. He notices it all. You hear a motorcycle rev by, blasting its engine. He sees the brightness of its color streaking alongside his drive with a purr of sound that soothes his eardrums.
His happiness is infectious. His smile can not be missed. Excitement can be unmatched by none with a quick hop, squeal and smile, you know he’s happy. He will concentrate on a toy for some time; it’s all the littlest of things that make an impression. He loves butterflies, movies, lollipops, his sister and brother. The love he has for them can be seen in the strength it takes for him to control his impulses and unleash soft kisses instead. He loves all who love him, all who care, all who are willing to understand what his eyes struggle to tell.
He touches the untouchable. People who seem unshaken by life’s joys, entranced with the drone of missing what’s passing by; he touches them. He lifts their spirits, their hearts, their souls. If they are willing, he returns their smiles, softness and glow. He will open their eyes to life’s joys. The preciousness of living, the intimacy of struggles, the beauty of relationships. I’ve seen him do this to passing strangers, the ones who look lonely, lost. In a moment, he changes them, he awakens them. In something he blurts, in a soft touch, the smile and purity of joy he passes to them when their eyes meet. I don’t know how he does it, I don’t know why he does it; but he gravitates towards them. In a moment, he loves them and returns what is missing. It is inexplicable.