A son marries, and a mother remembers

All week, it’s been running through her head. A slide show of his life — and, really, the best piece of her own. She’s remembering the day he was born. She thought her heart would explode the first time she held him that November morning, 81⁄2 pounds of pure perfection — in her eyes, at least. On that day, she couldn’t imagine this one.

She’s remembering his first smile, on Christmas Eve, and his first laugh and the day he took his first steps.

Toward her, of course. That’s the way it is with mothers and sons. The connection is instant and eternal.

She’s remembering that first birthday and his delight in the giant red lollipop atop his cake. And the way his eyes lit up on his second birthday, that he now had wheels — three of them, in fact.

She’s remembering Ninja Turtles and Hot Wheels and those little green Army men. She still finds them now and then, when digging in the backyard.

Oh, there were hard times, too. Childhood, after all, is no fairy tale. She won’t ever forget that May afternoon when the call came from the hospital to come quickly. To come now.

On that day, she learned that you can’t protect your children from redlight runners or whatever horrors await them in the world.

This week, she’s remembering those terrible days and the months and years that followed. The heartache that comes when your 5-year-old is badly hurt and you would give anything to take it away, but you can’t. The hard work to try to repair wounds not so easily healed. And the prayers. So, so many prayers.

But mostly, she’s remembering special moments and the everyday things that now seem special, too. It’s not until later, after the parental grind of diapers and spelling lists and timeouts and tutoring, that you realize it was all precious time. Not until later, when you blink, and it’s over, and suddenly, it’s his wedding day.

All week long, she’s wondered what she could give him beyond the gift that sits in a corner, wrapped in silver foil that shines like the promise of this day.

He is the son she always hoped for, and today he’s marrying the woman he’s always dreamed of, and she realizes there is nothing she can say that he does not already know. (Nothing he would listen to, anyway.)

Her work is done. So now comes the hard part. It’s said that a wedding is a rite of passage for a man and woman, but it’s also a major change for a parent. The little boy who once reached for her hand doesn’t anymore.

Today, Scott will take the hand of a beautiful girl named Jennee, and together they will move forward with their lives.

And the mother? Well, she’ll say a prayer, thanking God for the gift given on that long-ago November day, then given again five years later.

Then she’ll do what good mothers do. She’ll step back, no longer beside him, but behind him. Always behind him.

Proud and grateful and so, so blessed.