For Grandpa Tom on his Birthday

I wrote the drafts of these prose poems earlier this year.
Tom, you've been on my mind as much as in my heart. We miss you everyday.

Ghosts & Superheros
I wonder what to say to you on those days when I can see your sadness. The quiet play beside the sofa, the ranting fights with your brother over nothing - something you cannot see. I think about the crying room, holding you against my chest during the first funeral, recoiling at the incense and feeling the weight of your breath.

We retreated to the church playground, climbing, swinging, hiding. I remember your hands on my belly, your mouth pressed up against my sweater, your baby talk to the unborn sister inside me. The black skirt and sweater, the black nylons, my own skin. Everything is tight – I feel so much pressure. You want to know about the baby but I suppose you just want to know something, anything at all. You feel kicking at your cheek and offer a curious smile, closing your eyes, resting your head against me. I already feel the pain but I have no words to make it clear. I tell you that soon you'll wake up and be the big brother just like Seamus. Everything will be different.

Seamus calls to you; he needs to run it all out. You dart off. Disappearing into the wooden fort, up the ladders, down the silver slide, swinging and swinging. Brothers in motion, racing together in the South Carolina breeze. I feel uneasy watching your legs kick up into the Angel Oak tree. You're giggling again. You move like a ghost.

When we are back after the second funeral, the second unexpected goodbye, you have more words and you repeat and repeat and repeat. “He died. Your daddy died. He's all gone. Daddy's daddy died.” It almost makes us crazy. We are spread too thin – stretched out across the country barely holding at all corners. We feel tightness in our chests - our own hearts make us afraid. I almost hit you after a bedtime shower. “You're making us too sad, you have to stop saying those things.” You don't even look frightened. I feel so empty. I am the drain in the shower, everything just passes through me. You hold my face in your slight hands, they smell like Johnson's baby soap. You say, “Please. You bring him back?” I cannot. I cannot. I cannot. We are soggy; the towels have a musty smell because I do not have time for laundry. We lay down in your bottom bunk, you in your Batman pajamas. I read Shel Silverstein. I think we've been to where the sidewalk ends. My eyes are wet and heavy. You seem so close to sleep. I kiss your tiny mouth, so sorry that I've lost my temper. You open your eyes and whisper: “I'm a superhero. I save him, I save us all.”


Protection
Seamus found the watch you gave to James at Christmas in those beautiful days before you died. The King of Jordan's seal set upon the box like a promise of protection or prosperity. Of the many gifts a father gives a son, this was precious. I found the empty box in the kids' secret room, no watch in sight. I could see how it would go instantly. The choler and defeat sinking into James's chest, the raised voice and futile stomping. He arrived moments later sweaty from running. I kissed him softly on the mouth and held his face, looking at him from that place between a mother and a wife. A hard run, he says, I had to walk some. He saw the box. I asked, was the watch in it? Knowing this could be too much, I winced. Yes, he said, and walked toward his closet with his shoulders heavy on his body. A quiet sigh. No despair, no fury - just the ritual of getting showered after work. The boys were already giggling in the water when he stepped in to rinse off, asking about their day, their school, the sunshine. He inquired about the watch and the empty box and I listened to Seamus say “under your bed.” I found it immediately and James ran his hands over Seamus's head, grateful to be home. No more mention of the purloined watch. I know how precious it is. The boys all emerge bright and shiny, a catastrophe averted.

I often feel you with us. I see you, their grandfather, in the boys' dirty hands, their interest in coins, books and flying machines. I see them how you would see them, how gentle you would be with their grief, how tolerant with their wild fractures of emotion. You didn't have a patient hand during those days when you flew from Russia to Jordan, Denver to New Jersey, offering protection and logistics. I never knew you that way. I knew the man you turned out to be. You'd always said it wasn't sexy to fly in the belly of a plane and eat food in Pakistan from roadside vendors. You were away a lot. Food on the table and such. And I think the travel made you sick. It was your job, the secretest of service. The boys and girl suffered but no more than you. Where were you? They always wanted to know. Where are you still? Here we are with our own boys and girl, and it is your hand I feel now when my heart rustles and flutters when I am lost in my own house. I know that you approved of our choices, you know why we've made them. No more sleeping on planes, living on the other side, serving faraway conglomerates. Now we all stay home protecting what is ours, yours. You are as close as our own hands.

Sorry, I've been busy (and lazy too).

So, I hate to admit it, but it's true: I'm having a hard time getting to everything. School has been great (James is the KING of support), but I recognize that I'm not getting to the blog as much as I should. Kids, be patient, I'm setting an example (I hope its the one that I'm intending). But as busy as school has been, for the most part, we haven't felt too many stresses, in fact it's been fun.







I love playing with the big boys (so to speak) at school, but the kids have been so funny lately. MJ is no longer a baby. The baby phase is gone. She is fiery. She's full of all sorts of opinions and ideas which include manipulation galore (if you say its time for bed, she immediately sits quietly in your lap and cuddles with you).

I'm becoming a sucker. The other night James was sending the boys to bed and I let them have dessert in the kitchen, James said "Boys, is mom and sucker?" And Finn replied: "YES!" Seamus replied: "If sucker means wonderful and fabulous mommy?" Seriously. I am a sucker.

MJ left the dinner table tonight as I was cleaning up, and I panicked when I saw she wasn't at her chair anymore. I found her typing away, just as she's seen me for weeks, happy and proud as could be... but just as I'm reveling in her brilliance, she took off her diaper and put it on her head...God gives me these lessons all the time - don't get to smart, honey, you don't really know what your doing...

You can't handle the truth.

In a wonderful turn of events, we were lucky enough to be at Notre Dame this weekend for an Irish victory AND our nephew, Charlie's, commissioning ceremony. Charlie is a 3rd year law student at ND - and he was commissioned this Saturday as an Navy JAG Ensign.

While the ceremony was devoid of pomp and circumstance (Charlie doesn't even have a uniform yet, there were no no 21 gun salutes, color guard, etc) and lasted less than 15 minutes - it was incredibly moving and impressive. Anne and I felt truly privileged to get to share this with Charlie, his friends, and his parents.

The commissioning oath -

"I, (state your full name), do solemnly swear that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; that I take this obligation freely, without any mental reservation or purpose of evasion; and that I will well and faithfully discharge the duties of the office on which I am about to enter. So help me God."

I've known Charlie for about 10 years - so we'll count that as always. Perhaps knowing the intensity of his conviction and loyalty is what made the oath so moving. I'm proud and happy that Charlie is now officially protecting Doughertys from all enemies (foreign and domestic) - we're feeling pretty safe these days. Thanks, Charlie, and Congratulations! Thanks for including us!

P.S. By the way - for you military novices - Navy JAG is the Judge Advocate Generals group - in a nutshell, the lawyers for the Navy. They were made famous by that blockbuster hit "A Few Good Men". That should give you an accurate picture of the world Charlie has just joined. That's correct - In addition to defending our constitution - Charlie will be playing LOTS of softball. I'm also hopeful that someday he'll be in a courtroom and say, "You're out of order, he's out of order - THIS WHOLE COURT is out of order". But I'm kind of a dreamer.

Seamus, Today is Your Day.

Happy 5th Birthday, Mr. Man. It's early morning, we've got a busy day, but I am thinking and wishing so much for you that I couldn't sleep. When I kissed you last night, I said I'd tell you the story of the day you were born tomorrow, even though I think you already know it by heart. We'll do that this morning, maybe for the last time with you in my lap, you seem to be growing faster than truly possible.

You are gregarious, extroverted. You make friends quickly and you love action. Your school days are hysterical to me because you always have stories about them (the truthfulness of which is unclear). For example you told me yesterday that you are the blue group leader, when I asked you more about it, you said "Jack was the green group leader" and that everyone followed you around. Do they? I'm not sure, but I will, I love your stories. We often say to you "is this the truth or a story?" and now that I'm back in school, I find myself asking the same questions all the time.

You are very interested in politics - mostly because of these large signs in our neighborhood. You tell us all the time that you are voting for Barack Obama (whose name you can spell because of all the signage) because you think his name is cool. You were disappointed that he didn't fly planes and crash while he was a soldier (to a 5 year old, I think its almost impossible to vote against a soldier). In your mind you had morphed your favorite parts of both the candidates (you're not the only one who wishes he/she could do that) into one super candidate.

Your enthusiasm caused me a bit of pain the other day when the FedEx guy came to the front door. He was a younger, black man with a short haircut, you saw him through the glass and yelled, "Mom! Barack Obama's at the door!" I'm not sure how to explain all my mortification. So, clearly there is not enough diversity in your 5 year old life, but nothing seems to frighten you, you take everything and everyone with wonderful exuberance. You were so excited to meet him.

Your dad bought you new cereal bowls and batteries for the old camera for your birthday. One thing that I love about you, is that these gifts will thrill you. You won't expect anything else. When you and dad were talking about needing new bowls last week, dad said to you that they were probably really expensive, so we couldn't get more. You told him, "No, dad, I bet they're only about two dollars. I've got two dollars in my piggie bank." Dad told you that you'd better save all your money, save it and if you didn't spend it, it would grow. He was telling me this the other night and I could hear your grandpa and your great grandpa saying the same things to their sons (which they did over and over again).

Here is what we know, what we believe to be true about how we want to live our lives, these are the things that we absorbed from our parents, our siblings, our experiences:

Save for the future. Treasure what you have. Take care of the things that are important to you.

I am eager to find out what it is you will believe to be true, what beliefs you will use to live your life by. If the last 5 years are any indicator, maybe it will be something like:

Smile. Run. Embrace.

Seamus, as I said, today is going to be a busy day. I hope you feel loved. I hope you have fun. We've learned so much together over these last, fast 5 years, I look forward to everyday because you make every moment shine. Happy Birthday, Buddy.

Happy Birthday Mom/Grandma Barbara!

Thanks Sarah for the great apple orchard suggestion!

Buddies

Seamus and Finn have made two good friend - conveniently - brothers exactly the same ages as the boys. Jack and Will, Seamus and Finn. The symmetry is almost a little too much. There is also another little boy MJ's age, named Charlie and they even play well together (I hate to admit that MJ can play). This is from Monday's play date. The boys are in school together, and they live close by, they'll probably go to grade school together, it's just such a funny thing picturing the relationship that these kids could have.

Whenever Finn see's Will, he says "Hey, Buddy." When I picked them both up from school last week, the teacher told me they had to be separated. She said they both took off their socks during circle time and made puppets...

The thing I think I like best is that Jack and Will are very good to each other, and for the most part, I think Seamus and Finn are very good brothers. I think this little friendship will be a good thing for them as they are learning about independence and non-family relationships.