Summer has officially begun. I can sure tell. The heat is on, and everyone is traveling or making plans to travel. That alone makes this time of year exciting. However, sometimes it seems more like my family is all making plans to go our seperate ways. I suppose that is all a part of Jacob growing up. When he was little, I would never dream of going away for any length of time without him. Or if I did take a short trip, it would be excruciating. So far this summer, Jacob is heading out to Texas for a few weeks. I am going to Pennsylvania for a few days, then off to Texas to fetch the boy. There is no telling what else will crop up. Summer is still young. Maybe Kim and I can find some time to get away somewhere cooler.
Since I did not grow up in a traditional American family. I never had the chance to experience the "family vacation" I have heard others describe. Packing up the station wagon and loading the kids in for a trip to Yellowstone, or the Grand Canyon. I feel like I missed out since I didn't get the chance to bicker with my siblings in the back seat. You may roll your eyes and say that I did not miss much, but I bet those memories are precious to you. They should be. I feel like I may have missed out on something crucial, something that I can't share with Jacob. I guess that is ok. I have other, more important things to share.
I was thinking some deep thoughts lately about child abuse. Do the scars that are left from the absence of somthing leave as deep damage and shape us as much as the scars left from actual impact? Who hurts worse? The child who was physically abused, or the child who was neglected? I don't know. Is there really a "worse" in a situation like that? I have known both kinds of kids. I don't really classify myself as either. I had some bad moments in childhood, it you might even call my childhood tragic. But I don't think I was ever really abused. But I saw it. I lived with it. It slept in the same house. Both kinds. Both are ugly and damaging. Deeply damaging. One of those bad gifts that keep on giving.
Probably if you were a victim of one or the other you would think it was whatever you experienced. My siblings and I were neglected a bit by our mother, who was mentally ill. But it never felt like she abandoned us. I feel that she always loved us. I never once doubted that. Our Grandparents loved us. Their home was a safe haven of food, and attention. My father deserted us and I don't believe he loved us, but since I never knew his presence I don't think I missed it much. At least not until it was time to make an adult relationship of my own. Missing out on a father made me confused and awkward. I floundered. I wonder if is the same for boys who don't have a mother? Thank God, Jacob has both. We are so flawed, but both present in his life. Hopefully that will be a better gift, and hopefully Jacob can pay it forward in an even better way to his child or children.
Well this was sort of RANDOM and depressing as I read back over it. But at least I posted. That means I won, again!