8 October 2013
Dear Mom and Dad,
Forty-Two years ago today you stood together and exchanged your wedding vows. A little less than two years later, I came along. All these years later, through good times and bad, sickness and health, bumps in the road and bliss, you are still together. And, I commend you for your dedication.
I am thankful that I had safe home and that I was provided with all the basic necessities-food, shelter and clothing. I suppose, looking back, I wanted for very little. I think I was a good kid. I never got in any trouble at school and was mostly well-behaved at home. As a student, I was average at best. School was always a bit of a struggle for me, but I always enjoyed school. I respected my teachers. These were values which were instilled in me for as long as I can remember. “Respect your elders”. And I did.
As I get older, my childhood becomes a bit of a hazy blur as I attempt to recall certain aspects. I recall playing in the dirt, playing with toy cars and trucks. Maybe I wasn’t all “boy”, but I was as much as I possibly could be. I recall being outside a lot. As an only child, I recall playing a lot by myself, and, for the most part, I don’t regret that. I had a vivid imagination, I spent time "playing school", and looking back, if I was lonely, I was blissfully unaware.
Perhaps I’ll never know when you began to notice that your little boy was “different”, and by different, I mean, when you knew I am gay. Was it early on? Looking back, I recall knowing as early as eight or nine years old that I was different, but didn’t have a name for it. I can’t really fault you, if you didn’t know—it was, after all, the 1980s and who knew what to do with a gay child at that time? Maybe you didn’t realize until I was a teenager, or maybe it was while I was in college. That, I’ll probably never know. Maybe you saw me struggle, or maybe I was good at keeping that struggle hidden.
Did I have a normal childhood? Sure, it seemed normal to me. How could I know any differently? Did I have spend-the-night parties? No. My spend-the-night parties were with grandparents, and that was fine by me. While my childhood seemed normal to me, I know that I was far from a “normal” little boy. I wasn’t into sports, or action figures or anything like that.
I remember taking swimming lessons one summer when I was maybe seven, even though I didn’t do very well at them. All I really wanted was piano lessons. The answer was always a “no”. That is, until I was 15, and it probably wouldn’t have happened had not my grandmother stepped in and made sure it happened. I suppose telling her “no” would have been a moot point. I can’t say I blamed you all those years for saying no. I mean, had I really excelled at anything in my life? Why throw away money for piano lessons? However, I did excel. In fact, piano is probably the only thing that got me through high school. It was my “thing”. I could play for church, I could play for the school chorus. And I did. And, still, today, I play.
Here’s my confession: Maybe my life wasn’t perfect. Maybe I wasn’t the perfect kid. There’s a line from a song that says “And just to clear the air, I ask forgiveness for the things I’ve done you blame me for. But then again, I guess there’s blame to share, and none of it seems to matter anymore.” And maybe that’s the case. Our relationship has been estranged for many years. It’s a fathomless, prideful, terrifying place to be, not having the words, not possessing the courage to reach beyond the yesterdays to even see the tomorrows, to embrace that which needs to be embraced. Perhaps one day it will all come together. Perhaps one day I’ll understand why I have felt the way I feel.
You provided me with life, education and values. I’ve known acceptance at the lowest moments. And yet, I have a wall around myself. It is a wall built of pride, of fear and frustration. Some days are more freeing than others. Perhaps you can relate. While I have such a difficult time articulating, I hope you know that you are always on my mind, and in my heart I am grateful for the wonderful blessings of this life you have provided.
Happy Anniversary.
Love,
Your Son
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