I had a long talk with my son yesterday. He has been granted a one term scholarship in the US through his college and is leaving in a couple of weeks. He has been extremely excited about it all summer, but now when reality is setting in he is starting to get some jitters. The worst thing for him is leaving the girlfriend.
A few months apart may not seem a big thing to you and me, but to a young man in his early twenties having his first serious relationship, four months seem like an eternity.
Yesterday, suddenly, he said he wished he could have talked about it all with his father. I asked him if that meant he actually wants to talk to him. My son shook his head, no.
“I would have wanted to talk to my father. My real father. My dad who loved us and was a part of this family. I don’t want to talk to the man who left us and hurt us to be with another woman, or child rather. No. But I would have wanted to talk to my father.”
And I realize that my son has gone through the exact same process concerning his father that I have done with mine. Our fathers both died and we have been forced to grieve them and find a way to go on with our lives.
My father died in a car crash. My son’s father died by choosing polygamy.