RIGHTS OF PASSAGE


Oliver had been with me for 27 years. I know that life without him would have been easier. But this addition to my heart has helped me learn things about life, I suppose. That's the way it works, isn't it? We learn from the hard times.
Often, I think I would rather have been ignorant of his status, his existence. Sometimes Ollie drove me crazy with his annoying way of popping in at will. He disturbed my routine, yet his nature was always forgiving of this sporadic, unpredictable mother.
I remember when the boys were young. I saw Oliver follow along behind them during their escapades. He wove in and out of the two when they ran on the beach. He was in front, in the middle and behind them. At times, he seemed to disappear, become the same clear blue as the ocean. He would just vanish. And then, appear inside the soft foam of breaking waves.
The boys didn't get to know Ollie. There was no opportunity. They had each other and they were tight. As far as they knew, he wasn't there.
I felt so terribly sad in that deep mother crevice that is sometimes a distant, dull pain, other times, a stabbing knife.
Ollie left me for long periods of time. And when he did, I pretended he didn't exist. He could stay away for months and then show up at a festive gathering. He ruined my good time. I felt guilty and furious until the wine warmed me and temporarily took away the hurt.
When Jack and Stan went off to college, I was left with Ollie. His presence became more constant and predictable. I missed his brothers but if I was honest with myself, I didn't want another child interfering with my life. I didn’t want to have to deal with who he was, what he was. It was time for the empty nest. He was as big as life itself and would not leave.
I was getting older but Ollie still seemed so young. Like he hadn't had a chance to be what he should have been. I did not know what to do with him and I didn’t know what to do with myself, where he was concerned.
I decided to drive to the coast. Six hours with Ollie beside me. The history I had with him grew like a poisonous vine. The vine was binding and choking me. I couldn’t break free. Most of the drive was in silence except for my intermittent outbursts and sobs.
It was almost sunset when we got out of the car. I smelled the healing salt air and felt warmth on my body. Topaz water glistened, and rolled over my restless brain. I let my bare feet sink into soft, powdery sand. I didn’t deserve such pleasures.
Our Father was standing by the water‘s edge, waiting. I knew he would be there.
I felt something brush along the inside of my palm. Ollie's hand was like a whisper. Like a butterfly’s wings. His small hand didn’t belong in mine. He didn’t belong to me, at all. It was time to let go. Ollie did not look back, but walked to the sea.
Ollie walked toward the Father and into pure white foamy waves. A child who could have been mine except for a choice I had the "right" to make.
Ollie might have been a girl. I don't know. I had raised boys, and the familiarity of them caused me to think in terms of another son.
My husband didn't want another mouth to feed. Another burden. Our marriage was on a downhill slide. I was terrified of being left alone with three children. I didn't think I could find a job. I didn't want to leave my children with a stranger. I had so many excuses and so many reasons to make "the choice."
The dark-skinned man reached out his hand to my child. His presence glowed and I could feel his love. His peace surrounded me as he rested his kind dark eyes upon my heart. He took His child into his arms, held him up to the sky, and dipped him into the water. The two of them laughed in their playfulness and joy. They were washed from head to toe, until they became as clear as the ocean beyond.
I sat on the beach with sand blowing in my face. I watched the sunset and stayed through the black, cold night. And when the morning came, it came with grace.