Take You For a Ride

Have I told you that Jake was taking driver's ed this summer?

He finished this past weekend.  He was so excited and proud of himself that I had to take him directly to Secretary of State when I got out of work Monday afternoon.  Neither of us, to be quite honest, could wait another moment.  Our number when we pulled it off the dispenser in the lobby was 58, they were on, oh...25. (Insert wry smile here).   Typical Secretary of State on a Monday.  We waited in the crowded room for what seemed like forever.   At last, they handed him a rather plain, but official looking, paper with no photo:  his level one license.  He was elated.  Jacob is the most mellow individual ever, so to see him excited...well, there's nothing like it.
In the parking lot of the Secretary of State, we passed the paper back and forth, marveling over it properly and I managed to snap a couple of pics for posterity, which speaks volumes to Jake's excitement because he rarely allows photo ops without some type of bribe.  Suddenly, we realized a small problem.  The last wallet we'd bought him was years old and boasted Buzz Lightyear.  This simply would not do.

 Luckily, Kohl's was just down the road.  We ran in on a mission and walked out about three minutes later with a more appropriate wallet in hand.  Once back in the car, he pulled the tags off and grimaced when he realized he'd have to fold the permit in half in order to get it inside.  He caught himself frowning and chuckled, "You know folding this is killing me, right?"  I laughed.  Jacob has always wanted everything just so.  Back in preschool, he wanted no part of messy play or lunchtime spills.  When he came home, his outfit was just as pristine as it had been when he left.  That hasn't changed a bit.

Jake was excited, but still a little anxious, he said, about driving with me on the actual road.  He asked me to drive the first little bit while he worked up his nerve.  When we got close to our house, I pulled into a parking lot and we switched sides.   I watched him methodically arrange his mirrors, check the fuel level, and look all around him before backing out, smiling to myself all the while.  He is so controlled.  I sometimes wonder if he has a wild bone in his body.  And if he turns out that he does, well, someday, as long as it doesn't land him in jail, I will be delighted to see it.  Cut loose a little, son.  You only live once.

Cautiously, he eased onto the roadway and turned our car in Cory's direction.  A few minutes later, he pulled us into the cemetery.  He stopped carefully beside her on the lane and we got out.
How do I explain the duality of emotions I was feeling?
There was so much pride and excitement for my boy.  There was so much wonder at this new phase in his development.  There was unfamiliar, cautious joy at this juncture of parenting I had never made it to with Cory.  But then, too, there was overwhelming sadness that Cory had been cheated this small pleasure and that I been cheated the chance to experience it with her.
I was thrilled for Jake, but as I have mentioned before, the joy was smaller.  It would have been so much larger had we been driving to Cory's place of work or her apartment...or even just home, bursting in the door so Jake could call her down from her room to "Come see what I got, Cory!"

No, we were here instead.  I watched, reverent and my heart breaking, as Jacob walked up to her monument, centered himself before her, and tugged his brand new wallet out of his back pocket. He never faltered.   He fished the plain paper out, unfolded it carefully, and held it out to the marker in front of him that has come to represent the previously flesh and blood big sister who used to play popguns and eat popsicles with him in the backyard.
His voice was quiet, but genuinely excited, as he said,
"Hi."  He paused here, looking down, waiting, as if for an answer to his greeting.   I looked over at him, noticing again that he is now taller than I am, taller than Cory had been.  I  saw the way he bent his head in her presence, speaking to the ground; shy, but earnest.  His shadow fell across her monument, and in that moment, it struck me that it was a man's shadow now, not a little boy's.
 I nearly burst out crying then.  How could you not?

He said to her monument, with the smallest of smiles, but the pain of missing her painted across his features, "Look what I got, Cory.  I got my license.  And a new wallet to put it in.  I just....I just wish you were here. So I could take you for a ride."