At 20, my oldest son is struggling with figuring out who he is though he's not taking nearly as long as I did at his age. His long-time friends are scattered at their school of choice, and the few that are still close enough to visit, he doesn't see as often as he'd like. His relationship with his brother is good, especially considering that they share a room and can get on each other's nerves. Between work and school, we don't see a lot of one another, but our conversations are usually enough to stay connected.
This child of mine, he's quiet until he's moved to speak. While he may seem to be immersed in himself most of the time, he is observant, compassionate and respectful of those around him. He swears like his mother and is as opinionated as most of my family. He knows responsibility and won't be anyone's fool.
I know these things because I watch him. I take in all the examples he's demonstrated without him ever being aware that I'm paying such close attention. The way he interacts with our older family members, the way he entertains the youngest — no matter what his aspirations in life, he is deeply rooted in family.
When I say "I love you" he will respond with the same, but it is rare that he will ever elaborate or share his feelings freely. I know this, just as I know how much he dislikes my instance in hugging him or giving him a kiss on the cheek. He doesn't say it and he doesn't beg me to stop, he tolerates it because he knows it makes me happy. Though he wouldn't admit that, if you asked.
For all that I have witnessed him do and say, for each time I have seen him swallow his own wants and do what someone else wanted to do, and for the times I've heard the compassion and understanding in his voice as he's talked about what others are going through, I know that he is capable of the emotion he doesn't often show.
I just didn't expect to have him subtly proclaim how much his brother and I mean in his life. Sure, we're his closest family, and we know he loves us, but he doesn't wear it on his sleeve. He got his first tattoo today, and though he'd mentioned incorporating both his brother's and my birthdates in it, I hadn't expected him to follow through, but he did. He may never make it a habit of voicing what we mean to him aloud, but he will forever wear the evidence of our importance in his life on his skin for everyone to see.
We are all different and how we show our love and appreciation are no exceptions. I may occasionally wish that my sons would voluntarily tell me they love me first or be more open about what I mean to them and what they mean to one another, but I have come to respect that they are each their own person. As such, they will never express their love the same ways that I do, and they don't ever need to feel as though they should. Unconditionally loving my children has taught me that someone else's expression of their emotions for me doesn't need to be in the same way I choose to express mine. What is most important is my ability to recognize each person's unique way and accept it without expectation of something that doesn't reflect their true nature.
No matter how small this gesture might seem, the depth of its meaning is undeniable. My youngest son and I, without a doubt, hold pretty special places in my oldest son's heart. All the eye-rolling in the world won't convince me otherwise now.
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