Alastair. My Son. One half of my world and lately someone I try to live up to. Isn’t it supposed to be the other way around? Not in this family.
In the last two weeks he has been formally recognized at community and academic levels. It’s been anxiety inducing, a sign he’s getting ready to start his own life. Then came more great news, the University of Alberta and University of Calgary sent him letters of acceptance. I have been a bit shaken by this all to be honest.
It’s coming to an end. Or, at the least, it’s changing fast. The memories have been flooding in.
I want to do it over. I want to relive it all. I can’t, and it’s killing me.
I remember him falling asleep on my chest as an infant, as we watched the Oilers.
I remember playing with him in the ball house we bought at Ikea.
I remember walking beside him as he’d trike to Wendy’s on a hot summer night. Ever great trip, no matter how short, needs a reward at the end of it and ours was always two malts.
I remember his first goal scored as a hockey player. He was 3.
He was an amazing hockey player. As always, too smart for his own good, and often understood the game better than those that coached him. I was one of those coaches he was smarter than.
I see my Brothers with their sons. My oldest brother’s son serves in the Armed Forces. As a family we are all proud, but no one is more proud than his Dad.
My youngest brother has a 2 year old. My favourite day in the last few weeks was a day spent with them. He loves motorbikes. I love airplanes. After a 3 hour drive that produced nothing of value, we decided the trip shouldn’t be in vain, so a toy at Walmart should be purchased. I was walking the aisles with him and his dad,
“Motorbikes!” He exclaimed. “I want this one.”
“How about an airplane Oscar?” I queried.
“How about NO.” He firmly asserted.
Always looking for a way to buy this boys affection I promptly found the biggest motorbike I could find.
“This one?”
“Yes.”
I predict one day the Cottier bloodlines will make a triumphant return to the famous TT motorcycle races that take place on the Isle of Man; An Island we descend from.
This may seem like a silly story, but I can’t tell you how much happiness this day brought me.
As I think about these things it’s hard not to get emotional. I’ve completed many, many projects. I’ve built some homes that are really special. But somehow I don’t care about any of that. THIS is the stuff that matters. Life is so beautiful.
My wish for my son, is not money and an amazing career. He’s likely to achieve that easily. I want him to have what I had. I want him to have a family. I want him to fall in love. I hope God blesses him with a son or daughter. Maybe he’ll be as lucky as I and have both. Daughters are just as special.
I’ll be there with a toy airplane.
If you read this far, Thank you.
Tris.
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