I’m Your Son, Too

 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.