I need to forgive you, but I don’t know how. It’s been over four years. I haven’t seen you and have only spoken to you once in that time. It was never my intention to hurt you any more, I suppose, than it was your intention to hurt me. Maybe time heals all wounds, I’m not really sure. But sometimes I have to wonder why. I have to wonder why all the hurt, why all the pain, why all the fear?
Why can’t I just pick up the phone and put all this shit to rest? Why am I not able to be the bigger person here and make the first step? Yet, I remind myself that I’ve reached out with cards and letters and none of my actions have ever been returned.
Sometimes, I have to admit that it feels like you’ve died, but I didn’t get to say good buy, didn’t get to go to your funeral, and that I got no sense of closure. Where did it all go so horribly wrong?
Did it happen when I uttered those word you’d probably waited most of my 22 years to hear anyway “I’m gay”? Did it happen when I graduated from college and moved out of state? Did it happen when the relationship I moved out of state for fell apart—did you have hopes that I would drop everything and come back “home”? Did it happen when I started a new relationship with Parker, someone I didn’t get the impression you liked very much any way.
Here’s my confession: What truly happened? Perhaps I’ll never know. I always tried to be a good son. I always wanted to be accepted and loved. I thought you had done a good job with that. I have chalked a lot of things up to your youth when I was born. Maybe you didn’t know what you were doing. I didn’t come with an instructional manual. Mother, I tried. I tried to become someone of whom you would be proud. I tried. The truth is, for most of my life, at least my early life, I was lonely and I hated myself. That’s something that took me until early adulthood to come to terms with. In fact, it’s only been in the last couple of years that I’ve been able to look at myself and say “Damn it, you have something to be proud of. You have friends who love you.” I grew up bored with an inferiority complex, knowing all the while, since the second grade that I was “different”. Within a few years I knew what that difference was that I am a homosexual. Oh, I’m sure I’ve caused the family my fair share of heartache over that revelation, but wouldn’t you rather me live my life in truth and inner harmony than to live a lie every single day of my life?
Perhaps you have some illness of which I am completely unaware. I don’t know. What I do know is that while you will possibly never read the words I now write from deep with in the power of my soul, that I’ve tried. I’ve poured out my soul in this letter and hope that somehow, someway, that God will bring you peace. I pray that someday…when the time is right that we can reunite. Sometimes I wonder if that reunion will happen on this side of heaven or the other.
Happy Mother’s Day. I hope it was an amazing day for you.
Love,
K
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3 comments:
Been waiting for this post...very good. I just hope that in some way you will be able to speak these heartfelt words to her. It affects you more than I think you know. I can see the hurt and fear in your eyes and every word uttered. I truly think life will be better once you get some closure and I would hate to see you never being able to get that of which you so desperately need. It'll be very hard to do, but Godspeed, Keller, and may you reveal yourself to them and find your peace.
"Man is least himself when he talks in his own person. Give him a mask, and he will tell you the truth." - Oscar Wilde
Thanks, Anonymous. Wish I knew who you are to thank you personally. :-)
Sounds like this helped you come to terms with more than you think. It shows growth but sadly, the more i read I see a person hurt, trying to move to the next level with his family relationship. I see a bitter person. Bitter towards his past and unfinished words and unresolved issues with his family. The positive thing is that I see someone coming to terms with his past and seeing things clearly. Someone who has realized a positive life withour the full support of family. They may have accepted your coming out but somehow they fell to the wayside. You have not let that hold you back. Maybe that is what has driven you to excel at all your endeavors. Who knows? Life is made of little things that make us who we are. Some good, and some bad, but they still shape who we are and who we become. I understand the phone works both ways and you are not the one to blame. Maybe picking up the phone, no matter how hard it is, will give you some closure or resolve that you so need.
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