Born under the most wonderful conditions, gently birthed and never separated from me, Jacob was the most welcomed of babies. I had longed for another chance and thought I might never have a second opportunity at motherhood. Due on Christmas Day 1986, he finally appeared on January 2, 1987. He graciously held tight until after the Buckeyes won the Cotton Bowl against Texas A&M, 28 to 12 on New Year’s Day. Maybe that explains his being a fervent Ohio State football fan today. His respect for the tradition began in utero. Yesterday we texted throughout the Buckeye victory in the Rose Bowl. I would have loved for him to be there with me.
As a little boy, Jacob was an independent explorer seeking to know and understand everything. My first born, never roamed far from my side so maybe she gave me a false sense of security. Jacob would challenge that security often, scare me to tears and was no doubt cause for wrinkles and gray hair. Wherever we ventured, stores, malls, or fairs, Jacob would inevitably roam off. Taking advantage of the two parent system, where we each thought he was with the other, Jacob would escape. It was always something that intrigued him, something new and compelling, something thought provoking that lured him away from the safety of my side. Jacob was an explorer seeking to touch, examine and understand the things in his world. Shopping malls were vast unexplored wildernesses calling him to discovery and the safety of his mother’s side was of little concern. Thanks no doubt to his guardian angel, I always found him in the next isle over, two stores down in the mall or holding the hand of a stranger who discovered him out in the parking lot alone. Embarrassment at my lack in parenting skills and anger over his direct disobedience to the rules would give way to the immense relief at seeing him safely returned to my side. I can’t help but think this is one of the reasons Jacob excels in academics, especially math and science; he began his life wandering and seeking answers.
It would be years before he understood the pain and terror he caused in my heart. Maybe it is his juvenile understanding of that pain that caused him to use running away as a tool to get my attention and make me realize how much he was hurting at times in his preadolescence and into his early adolescence. My favorite was the day he packed a partial loaf of bread and a jar of peanut butter into a bag and went to his makeshift tree house on a nearby hillside. He ran out of food and came back angry that I had not yet noticed he had run away. It only added to his fury and proved his point, “I was not paying any attention to him.” It was hard to be the middle child, the usually self sufficient and trustworthy kid of a mother overwhelmed with grad school, a crumbling marriage and trying to run the household. I am sure he was right and I deserved the wake up call even if he had to explain the situation to me before I would realize just how much he needed me right then.
Jacob still has some of that quest to see and understand that caused him to roam, but the world has somehow created a tad bit of shyness not noticed in the innocence of his childhood. As an adult he ventured off to college without any noticeable homesickness. He moved into an apartment and began a five year path at Cal Poly without looking back. This year he moved into a suite with 6 unknown roommates all of whom have become his companions and friends. The extroverts managed to get him to agree to shared meals most evenings, but being an introvert, he has no problem eating alone, or hanging out with himself in his room.
Jacob has always been big hearted and sensitive. His big brown eyes easily fill with tears even as a young man and he has a way of saying Mom, with the vibrato of a little lamb that will immediately cinch my heart. One of the hardest lessons of his young life was the day our beloved dog Duchess was hit and killed by a car. Jacob’s heart was broken as he came to terms with the fragility of life and the responsibility we have in caring for those more vulnerable. Jacob was devastated. When we brought home a new puppy, Jacob adopted Trudy as his dog. He would play endlessly with this scrappy little pup as he bonded with her. Throughout her life, Jacob would be ultra protective of her, dropping everything and running when she escaped through the front door or in any way escaping our tether. I will never forget the day she jumped from the car and ran to the edge of the Grand Canyon with Jacob running behind her screaming her name. Thank God the dog had the good sense to turn before reaching the edge. I am not sure Jacob would have stopped if she had gone over. Thus began his protective nature. We have come to the conclusion that is why he was the meanest babysitter Leah ever had; he was protecting her from all dangers on his watch. Today, I watch him with his dog, Millie and his girlfriend, Corrie and see the same protective nature manifest in this young man as head of the family. It makes my heart proud to watch him care for his girls both canine and human. It is as it should be.
In a year when I will be letting go of my father as his cancer advances, I can’t help but notice how much Jake, as he prefers to be called these days looks and acts like my father. From the distinctive nose, and deep set eyes to his hairline with widows peaks, it is not hard to see the resemblance. Like my father, Jake has a cool and calm demeanor that can be deceiving when his temper flares. Resembling a flash of lightening it is sharp and usually short lived. As someone who’s temper is slow and rarely expressed outside acceptable limits, I have never known how to help him manage his man-sized anger. My father didn’t always manage his well and I know he regretted the times he hurt others in his rage. I am confident Jacob’s huge heart and his amazing intelligence will guide him in finding ways of channeling his anger into healthy expressions. At Thanksgiving, when we all gathered in Ohio, I watched with a swollen heart as Jake helped my brother install a ramp for my father’s wheelchair. Taking his place as the youngest generation of Hamilton men, Jake did much of the physical labor as my brother instructed him in the process and Dad watched from his wheelchair at the window. He was the man I could not have imagined on January 2, 1987, but the one who makes me so proud today.
The girls tell me I favor Jacob; maybe they fear I love him more. I don’t think it is possible for me to love one of my kids more than the other two, but I understand why they might think so. There is something special about a mother’s boy, the way he can touch my heart, and make me proud in the simplest of ways; just being a boy and growing into a man.
Happy 23rd Birthday, Jacob. I am proud of you. Love always, Mom.
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