Lives are changing, pivoting, all over the city right now. Some people know it, some don’t.
It’s the hottest night of the year, and everything feels slower and more specific—the motorcycle whirring by, the exhaust from the bus, the distant shouts. Even movement feels weighted, as if gravity had been altered and natural time suspended, all of us now caught living in the space between an ending and a beginning.
In front of St. Joseph’s, broken men in hospital gowns are smoking cigarettes from their wheelchairs. I recently spent a long, uncertain time in hospital, and walking through this scattering of solitary men, all staring off at some internal horizon, I felt the need to stop.
Curtis, who was undergoing dialysis, had both legs amputated at the knee, was missing several fingers and teeth and was covered in tattoos. He didn’t mind being in hospital, he told me, because there were always people around and it was nice to have company. When I told him my wife and I were about to have a baby, his eyes got child-like and wide, “Oh, God has blessed you, sir, God has blessed you!”
We chatted for a bit, and as I was taking my leave it felt like we had both survived the same plane crash, but only one was able to walk away from the wreckage. After shaking his hand, and feeling like something almost holy had taken place, I walked into the hospital and later, at 4:40 in the morning on August the 18th, Rachelle gave birth to our son, Jones.
Rachelle was so strong. When the labour took hold and then seized her, she gritted her teeth, and then face a bright red, she pushed like a viking while k.d. lang played in the background. We thought this was going to go on and on for hours, as did the entire team who had anticipated a slow delivery, but suddenly Jones, whom I had been traveling 49 years to meet, appeared.
Neither Rachelle nor I saw him immediately. The presiding nurse, her face a sudden astonishment of joy, shouted, “Look down, look down!” And so we did, and there he was, glowing and perfect, seemingly illuminating all the faces now staring at him. For us, it was as if Jones was emitting a light that existed beyond sight, something so powerful and clarifying that with his first exhalation all the heavy, gritty air of the city, of the world and our lives, was cleared away.
The next day we all left the hospital– Jones, feeling the sun for the very first time as we carried him to the car in the Moses Basket a friend made for him. We passed through the smoking men who sat smouldering in the heat like rubble, but Curtis wasn’t amongst them, and so we continued without pause, taking Jones home. Home, an idea and memory that the boy and then the man, will forever be circling. And right this second this home is taking form, his mother rocking him in her arms, his father and dog watching from the sofa, a perfect and imperishable moment that one day Jones will close his eyes to summon.
(Photo courtesy of Donna Lypchuck)
Comments
13 responses to “Happily Ever After”
This is all there is….all that makes life worth living. Savor the moment and all the beautiful ones to follow, holding your sweet Jones and your beautiful wife tightly! So happy for you all!!
Oh, Michael…knowing just a little about the path you’ve travelled to get to this day makes this all the sweeter. You and Rachelle *are* blessed, but make no mistake; so is he.
Beautiful… I love reading your posts. I’m so happy for you and Rachelle, you both waited a long time for this precious gift, God Bless you both.
Congratulations to you, Rachelle and to young Jones for having the good sense to apparate in your lives. Writing so lovely that it make me regret I’ll never know the moment that you have shared so beautifully and vibrantly. And that takes some writing, as I’ve known since before puberty that I didn’t want children!
Wonderful news, Michael and beautifully depicted. I will not bother to describe for you the joy that children bring into you life, as you will find out soon enough, and will be able to describe it far more eloquently than I ever could. All the very best to the three of you.
The best to you, Rachelle, and Jones. Our son was born three weeks before my 50th birthday, and I’d spent much time wondering whether that was too old to do the things a father needs to do. In case you’ve experienced those doubts – and you’ve written nothing to suggest that you have, so maybe this nugget of experiential wisdom is unnecessary and self-serving – it’s not. The whole thing is fucking awesome.
Beautiful, Michael. It brought a tear to my eye thinking back to the day nine months before when I welcomed my new best friend into the world
Mr Murray, I liked this story, a lot. And so will Jones.
Well done, sir. And my best regards to the missus too.
You’re all in our hearts here.
I don’t normally use Capital letters on the internet, but I choose to right now…that is how happy I am for you both. A special time.
This story is a good gift. Thank you Michael.
Your words made me weep, Michael Murray. You have written the feelings of so many men who have experienced this magic but found themselves unable to express it to others. I am very pleased and proud of you both and I know that Jones will be raised in a solid, loving home. I sincerely hope that he begins reading at an early age so that he knows just what a talented and decent man his father is.
“The laughter of a child is the light of a house.” ~ African proverb
CONGRATULATIONS to you & Rachelle on the birth of your son.
Sheila Eagen (Rachel’s mom)
Lovely, Michael! Dakota the dog and I were both away, in different places, but had we
been here I’m sure I would have noticed something special about the sky that night and
Dakota would have howled! There’s a new kind of magic sweeping your lives now.
Much love to you, Rachelle and Jones