March 08, 2010

On becoming twelve

My son, Segev, has fought a war of survival for twelve long and hard years. Unable to fend for himself I have tried to provide him a mantle of protection and have worn it to keep his plight dignified, his suffering minimal and his light shining.

My struggles have been his breath and his breath has been my light.To procure safety i have worn out friendships and marriages, worn down my mind and body and clutched at straws willingly.

His heartbeat has become like the throbbing of my soul and I believe to know what it means to say to hell and back again. And all this without his knowing, without his caring if i did or didn't do. Without any awareness that there is a difference between life and death.

He is such a tenacious little man and i am proud of him. He has let his voice be heard, having said one word -Aba. And that one word has made my very soul quiver. It has shown me that within the sickness and decrepit existence resides a person who yearns for life and thus is beyond reproach.

I don't know if he understands what it is to give up and in understanding would ever choose to do so, but by setting example in not giving up I establish a creed which is made right by the success of his continued existence.

Nihil est pereat - nothing is ever lost. Segev has shown me what it is to live netto, pure survival. And it has taken an enormous effort to sustain him, stripped nearly to the bone and yet buoyantly he somehow remains in the stream, nearly taunting.

This pure essence of life is much more than merely physical survival though; because of a simple element that he has demonstrated time and again. That which with time we take for granted in any other scenario of parenting; the need for love and affection, it's power to calm and give security and in the end its ruling authority over all adversity.

While i refrain from coming to a grandiose conclusion, the accruement of each important moment pays dividends that i know, i know, will continue for all of my life.

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