The night before the operation and I am eating a pizza at 2am - in your honour, really. Except that mine is mushroom, not pepperoni, and I’m dipping it in mayonnaise. You never would! As I lay in bed thinking about this pizza sitting in the freezer it dawned on me that this must be hunger speaking… because I haven’t eaten properly for the last three days. Funny to be having a midnight feast at my age, forty years after baked beans and pineapple rings by torchlight in the dorm. You would approve; you’d probably throw in a movie.
So I’m thinking of you in your hospital bed now. I hope you are asleep - that the headache is not too bad. I would be asleep too, far away from anxious thought, if your father hadn’t rolled into me just as I was drifting off and broken the spell. At the moment of passing into blissful ignorance the jolt of contact drives away the longed-for destination. I have been hovering on the threshold, cold and empty, since then. But you know how your father causes a ‘disturbance in the force’ at times, don’t you? Bless him, such a loving man, and so upset by all this happening so close to home. More than close… its in the very heart of our home and family, where you were born and will always belong.
You said some lovely things tonight, before we left. You have so many dreams and hopes for life ahead and what you’ll do when you get home. So thin and wobbly on your legs, you’re like a new-born calf with so much running to do - but first you have to learn to stand. These 20 years have been a struggle as you’ve battled inside your head and heart to come to terms with who you are. We certainly haven’t seen the best of you yet. Please God, let us not lose the opportunity to see you fly and leave your mark upon the earth. “The glory of God is a man fully alive” as an ancient saint once wisely said, and I know there is glory to be revealed through you. As Hannah in the Bible, all those years ago I pleaded with God for a son to make our family complete, and when you burst upon the scene we named you “God hears”. May He be listening and show us favour now! Because I believe in you, my son, and through these long hard months I’ve seen you grow through suffering and glimpsed a heart of love and deep integrity. Let it be seen now, man of principle, and do not be afraid any more.
So what will happen tomorrow? We decide not to fear the worst, but hope for the best - and carry on as well as we can in the meantime, sleeping, or eating pizza - in your honour.
Goodnight Samuel, sweet dreams.
One Response to “In your honour”
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deep and compelling. thankyou redhead for sharing something so precious with us. come on sam