As I was pulling out of the driveway of the house where Josh lived..looking back over my shoulder, him crying at the door, calling out for me not to leave, not understanding everything that had taken place. The eyes, the expression, if love and heartbreak was ever etched upon a face, that was it. Going down the street to turn onto another road, of which I didn't really remember where I was going. The calling out of my son to me, the tears traveling down my face as well as his. That was the first time I saw the look, and it is in my memory not as a thought filed away to be retrieved on occasion, but as a frozen picture in my heart and mind, forever in the fore ground of my life. It holds more than love.
Graduation 1994 at Hamlin High School gym. That was the second time I saw the look. As the graduates were awaiting their turn to cross the stage to receive their diplomas, Josh looked over his right shoulder, with cap and tassel in place. The look upon his face, the same look as the time 13 years earlier in Virginia. The hope, love, care in his eyes. Wide eyed, sheepish grin, seemingly uncertain and glancing to his dad sitting on the bleachers. Was it reassurance or pride? It was the look. I felt it! My mind quickly bringing into focus the front porch so long ago. This time, the time before the tears flowed. A life time of love and admiration, of pride and worry, of caring and respect rushing forth. It was so over whelming. It could not be explained or really shared with others. It was a feeling in my soul that will remain with me forever. The second time the look took it's place on the window of my heart and soul, there to remain forever.
The airport in Philadelphia, as my son was returning to Bosnia. His 10 day R & R had gone quickly. He had joined the Army, and we were so proud. He was so proud! The 16th Engineer Battalion had been among the first to arrive in the war torn country. The danger of land mines, hostile fire, a civil war had raged for four years and the killing had taken hundreds of thousands of lives. The American forces were the main cog in the wheel of peace. The news releases were discussing "acceptable casualties" in the hundreds. It would only take one bullet, one careless mine placed in an undetermined location, of which there were millions. He had been in country for 6 months and was in the second wave of troops given R & R to return from war zones, to the soil of the United States, only to be returned again. As he got off the plane, helmet, bullet proof vest, in battle clothing, he had checked in his gun as he left one plane for another. He returned the same way. The smile through the glass door was special, a year ago almost to the day since we had seen him. The look was to come as the departure good-byes were exchanged. Car parked by the curb, airport hustle and bustle all around, military personnel in abundance. As he placed the helmet and vest on the bench he turned with tears in his eyes, only to meet the ones in mine, the hug and embrace were firm and lengthly. It was in my mind that my son may never return to me the way I was leaving him. He told me he loved me and the embrace that we shared cannot be described. That was the third look. The face was rough from his beard, such a contrast to the smooth baby face of good-byes past. We drove off, Josh entering the airport, Sue and I crying....again....a part of our heart leaving. Please God answer my prayers and return him to me. So bonded are our lives. I'm not sure my part would continue without him. I never dreamed a father son love could reach this proportion.Four years old and a weekend visit just didn't fulfill the need for contact, for a relationship. Seeing Josh once or sometimes twice a month...making the 800+ mile trip...the visit where time is split into thirds. One third the drive up, the anticipation, excitement, nervous chatter. Second third, the visit, short, rushed, never enough time, that saying of quality time is a farce. The time is so rushed, in restaurants, malls, relativies homes, always knowing that shortly the good-byes must be said. The final third, the parting and the trip home. The crying, the silence, the worry. That is when I saw the look for the first time.
THE LOOK II
THE LOOK III