A weekend lost

Last weekend was supposed to be a big weekend for me. At least, that is what I thought 13 years ago. (Okay, so more like 12 years and 8 months ago, but who's counting?) I guess I should explain. Tyler, my oldest, came home at 4 months old. Hence, the 12 years and 8 months ago. That makes 13 for those who were liberal arts majors and are reading this.

13 - I remember 13. It was a year. No, not the year 13. I am not that old. 13, for Jewish kids anyway, is a big year. You become a man (or a woman). (Time out: if you have no idea what I am talking about at this point, go watch Keeping Up With the Steins. Its funny. Trust me.) Its your Bar Mitzvah or Bat Mitzvah. Literally, you become a mitzvah, a good deed. Its a big deal. There is a service followed by a party. I remember both of mine.

My service was myself with 2 other guys. I went to a big Temple. We had to share dates. It was also my actual 13th birthday, which is unusual. I am pretty sure I screwed up. I know I didn't chant properly. I sucked at it. And, honestly, I didn't practice that hard. But, it is what it is.

My party was fun. There was a soccer theme. Who woulda thunk, huh? It was a lot of my dad's business friends and associates. I had my friends there. After the party, we went back to my house. We stayed up until 2am playing football in the backyard. It was a good day.

Last Saturday should have been Tyler's Bar Mitzvah. It was the first Saturday after he turned 13. It was the day my oldest was supposed to become a man. It didn't happen. You can't have a Bar Mitzvah when you are in a "treatment facility." (That is a rant for another day.) Instead of becoming a man, he was playing basketball and watching Bear in the Big Blue House. Fuck me!

Yes, instead of becoming a man, my son was watching Bear in the Big Blue House. Do you have any idea how much that hurts? Can you fathom how much that sucks? I don't know if I can even express it. I won't even try.

When I was growing up, we had a family tradition. At my brother's Bar Mitzvah, there is a picture of my dad, my brother and I holding a cigar still wrapped. At my sister's Bat Mitzvah, there is a picture of my dad, my brother and I with an unwrapped cigar in our mouths. At my Bar Mitzvah, wait for it, there is a picture of my dad, my brother and I smoking a cigar. The common theme? The cigar.

As dumb as it sounds, and it sounds dumb, I wanted that. I wanted those pictures. But there isn't one. There wasn't a Bar Mitzvah. (Oh, and my boys, rightly, think smoking is horrible, but I still wanted it.) A weekend lost...........one of those things I just can't get back. One of the losses of raising a kid with such significant special needs that the state just throws up its hands and says "I dont know what to do to help you."

This month, in honor of Tyler, I am going to light up a cigar. Even though we missed the service and the party, I will still have Tyler's cigar. Why? Because I love that kid to death.

To my  Tyler:

On that day Jacob blessed them, he said, "In time to come, Israel (the Jewish people) will use you as a blessing. They will say, 'May God make you like Ephraim and Menashe'."