Bearing Witness
Monday, January 23, 2006
FATHER TO SON
My son just left. I won't see him again until Wednesday. I go through periods where that's okay, and othertimes I fucking lose my mind not seeing him for two days straight. This is an othertime.
I always wanted to have children, but never thought I would. It has been my experience to usually not get what I want. It seems that when I like something, a lot, it always fades away. Bands I like break up mere moments after I discover them. Products I like are discontinued. Relationships dissolve. People I love pass away. So, I never thought this parent thing would work out, but it did, and I am grateful.
Oddly enough, even at three, my son has always been there for me. While my (ex)wife had a relatively easy pregnancy, she had a difficult labor. We were looking forward to a water birth, but because of complications, she had to have a c-section. Then there was the post delivery surgery, so it was just me and my boy in the nursery. While we were waiting, unsure of what was happening with his mom, my boy held onto my finger, as though he were assuring me that everything was gonna be okay. [I know grasping for an object to hold is a common reflex among newborns, but I felt wasn’t a damned common reflex]. My son was there when I was diagnosed with clinical depression. My son was with me during the bleakest moments of my separation. My son was with me on my last day of teaching. He taught me to have faith, to reach beyond my grasp. Because he exists, I am.
I have some sort of illness. I don’t know what the hell it is, but I pray it’s not serious. I won’t go into the details, but I will say it has me concerned. My biggest concern is that I won’t be around for my boy. Yes, I want to see him grow up to be a man, but more importantly I want to help him on his journey. I want/need to teach him how to be a man. I need to have a more hands on approach with him than my father had with me.
I love my father and I learned a lot from him. But it was all from a distance. My father and I didn’t talk. I mean we dealt with surface shit, but we didn’t really talk. This is all too common. Most men, I’m sure, never have deep conversations with their pops. And gay men – you might as well forget it. I want to have those moments with my son. I want to tell him that it doesn’t matter who you lay with, it only matters who you are when you get up. ¶ Monday, January 23, 2006 1 Comments
My son just left. I won't see him again until Wednesday. I go through periods where that's okay, and othertimes I fucking lose my mind not seeing him for two days straight. This is an othertime. I always wanted to have children, but never thought I would. It has been my experience to usually not get what I want. It seems that when I like something, a lot, it always fades away. Bands I like break up mere moments after I discover them. Products I like are discontinued. Relationships dissolve. People I love pass away. So, I never thought this parent thing would work out, but it did, and I am grateful.
Oddly enough, even at three, my son has always been there for me. While my (ex)wife had a relatively easy pregnancy, she had a difficult labor. We were looking forward to a water birth, but because of complications, she had to have a c-section. Then there was the post delivery surgery, so it was just me and my boy in the nursery. While we were waiting, unsure of what was happening with his mom, my boy held onto my finger, as though he were assuring me that everything was gonna be okay. [I know grasping for an object to hold is a common reflex among newborns, but I felt wasn’t a damned common reflex]. My son was there when I was diagnosed with clinical depression. My son was with me during the bleakest moments of my separation. My son was with me on my last day of teaching. He taught me to have faith, to reach beyond my grasp. Because he exists, I am.
I have some sort of illness. I don’t know what the hell it is, but I pray it’s not serious. I won’t go into the details, but I will say it has me concerned. My biggest concern is that I won’t be around for my boy. Yes, I want to see him grow up to be a man, but more importantly I want to help him on his journey. I want/need to teach him how to be a man. I need to have a more hands on approach with him than my father had with me.
I love my father and I learned a lot from him. But it was all from a distance. My father and I didn’t talk. I mean we dealt with surface shit, but we didn’t really talk. This is all too common. Most men, I’m sure, never have deep conversations with their pops. And gay men – you might as well forget it. I want to have those moments with my son. I want to tell him that it doesn’t matter who you lay with, it only matters who you are when you get up. ¶ Monday, January 23, 2006 1 Comments
