It’s been over two years since last we spoke. I don’t fully know what led up to the break between us, perhaps I never will. All I know is that after you had cut me out of an important family matter, then casually asked if I still wanted to talk. I answered no. I knew then it was likely the last time we would speak. It wasn’t so much a change in the status quo as it was that I had finally admitted to myself that you had been pushing me out of the family for some time, with no explanation why. I knew then that your pride would never allow you to apologize, and I would not allow you to skate by without one.
You had already asked me not to call you directly. You made up an excuse that you didn’t carry your
phone on you and would not receive my calls.
You told me to call Mom instead. Neither
of us would find this excuse credible, but I honored your request. I put the best construction on things,
assuming you had well-meaning intentions behind it. So I began to call Mom to keep in touch. But I found that when I did, she could hardly
contain her desire to avoid talking. She
couldn’t jump off the phone fast enough.
My own Mother wanted nothing to do with me. Again, no explanation why.
The only explanation I could come up with that made any sense
was the falling out my brother and I had a year and a half before our final
conversation. He had gone on a rant cussing
me out for seemingly no reason. I tried
to reach out to him to understand what was making him react as he did. I asked if there was anything I needed to
apologize for. His answer blew me off
and clarified nothing. For years I had
walked on eggshells around his temper, never knowing if I was dealing with my
brother in his rational state, or if I would be the brunt of one of his
emotional outbursts. I was tired of
doing so, and told you I would no longer be his emotional punching bag.
Within the next several months our communication would
dwindle with a brief interlude when I was hospitalized with Covid.
And that’s where things were when I confronted you to ask if
my brother was okay, and you refused to tell me one way or the other. Up to this point, I had always given you the
benefit of the doubt. Our communication
had dwindled by circumstance, not intention, I had told myself. Until all doubt was finally removed, and the
intentionality of the act was confirmed.
You had picked a side when I had never asked you to do so. In one fell swoop, I finally realized I had
lost my family. You sacrificed me for my
Brother. But I’m your Son, too.
You had always treated us differently. I had never held that against you, until you
had finally slammed the door shut on me.
Children are different, and have different needs after all. I didn’t need you as much as he. But I do need something. I’m your Son, too.
As we grew up, you were always far harder on me than you were
on him. Rules that applied to me, were
not applied to him. I remember being
body slammed in the driveway for being late as a young teenager. I remember being dragged into the backyard
and pummeled because I retaliated when my Brother punched me first. Yet he did and said things with impunity that
would have gotten me knocked on my ass. You
have admitted as much. I still loved and
honored you as my Father. though. I
tried my best to be a dutiful and obedient son.
I don’t know why there was such a stark difference, but I’m your Son,
too.
I left home and went off to the Military Academy. I heard rumblings of problems back home, a
rift between you and my Brother growing.
I came home for his graduation only to find that he had left home months
ago and had disinvited you to his graduation.
I remember seeing him during this time so that he could grab some of his
things from home. I told him I loved
him, and took my grandparents to see his graduation. We were the only ones there for him. I would be the only child in the family to
reach adulthood without leaving prematurely.
Yet, now, I am the one who has been cast aside. But I’m your Son, too.
I went off to the Army and deployed to war. Shane would follow me later in the service as
well. I was so proud of him. Yet several years later, as I was at war, I
came home to find that he had been subject to extraordinarily hard times. Because I was in combat, this was kept from
me to protect me. But he would later
hold my lack of knowing of his circumstances against me, and would blame me for
my ignorance. I loved my brother, I wished
I could have been there for him. I regret
to this day that I could not have been.
During his times of trial you rushed out to get him. You brought him home and comforted him. Yet when my marriage was crumbling, and my
world was shattering, no one thought to come comfort me. I faced this time alone. But I’m your Son, too.
When I was raising my children, I did my best to include you
in their lives. I wanted my children to
know my parents whom I loved and cherished.
Its been nearly fifteen years since you took it upon yourselves to visit
my children. They are nearly grown now. I made excuses for years why this was the
case. They are just busy running their business
and don’t have the time. But I knew
better, because there were times you would visit my brother and sister’s children
several times a year. I took pains to
bring them to you for years, that they might know their grandparents, and spend
time with them. But the last two trips we
had agreed upon were canceled by you.
The last time, the excuse was that you wanted to attend my brother’s
high school reunion and hang out with his old wrestling buddies. I was stunned that you had such relative
disregard for my children. For I’m your
Son, too.
Now as Father’s Day approaches, I mourn your loss. I will never fully understand it, which makes
the pain of it all the more bitter. And
yet, I will always love you, and honor you, and crave your affection. I pray that one day we can be
reconciled. Because I’m your Son,
too.
