My Son and his Fatherhood

When I was my son’s age, I had been keeping a journal already for about a year. I can go back and read what I was doing when I was his age to the year, month and day. I too, was in college. I was not, however, trying to be a father nor was I living by myself, trying to keep up a home for myself. I was caving a lot and climbing. I had a great bunch of friends from Cumberland College (University of the Cumberland’s Now), and we ran around this part of Kentucky, caving and climbing all the time. Similar to my Son, I was experiencing the quickening of bipolar disease and there was times I was most unhappy for no apparent reason. I think about my Son very often; constantly really. He has already lead a life that I could not fathom at his age. He would not mind me telling this, but he has had in the past a problem with substances, and there as a time we thought we were going to lose him. In fact, we did lose him for almost two years, when he was either in jail or in court ordered rehab. I recently received a long letter and a book in the mail from an old friend who had similar problems with their son. I read with great interest how things worked out for the young man, and I know as I always have, there is much hope. Ready my friend’s words, it is apparent, there is nothing worse for a human being to find their beloved children in the perils of drug use or addiction. I can tell you, with absolute certainty, problems of this kind with our children are far worse than having a life threatening disease of your own. Comparatively, my life at age 22 years, 11 months, my life was far simpler. I had only grades to worry about, and in geology classes to boot; so I had nothing to worry about, comparatively. My son works full time at a national chair drug store full time. He is a full time student and he is fathering a wonderful baby boy. All of this, while trying to stay clean from drugs with an obsession about drugs that none of us who aren’t’ addicts would never understand. There are times my heart literally aches for him. There are times that I have been deeply deeply disappointed in my son. There are times I have been beyond angry. But I have never, ever stopped loving him, and caring about him deeper and infinitely more than I have ever cared for any other person on Earth. I am, and always have been reminded of my Son by the poem and now song, “I carry your heart with me” by e.e. Cummings. (poem: poem read, poem sang by Michael hedges). Truly there is nothing like the love of a father for his son, or a mother for her child… it is more powerful than anything in the Universe. When he started down that trail, his mother and I were heart broken. We worried about him smoking cigarettes, then we worried about him smoking pot. Things got bad enough, we thought those things were minor. We did everything we could think of to help him. We had him in rehab, sent him to the deserts of Utah to a wilderness camp, we even sent him to a high school in Indianapolis for addicted children. That didn’t work for him. He eventually came down to live with me in Somerset, and after six months of what I consider to be the “hell” of my life, when our son was 17, he landed in the custody of the state criminal justice system and was tried as an adult. I thought I was going to die of grief. Jonny spent his eighteenth birthday incarcerated. He spent his nineteenth birthday in a residential treatment facility. While he was away, he obtained his GED, and actually “graduated” from high school before his classmates did. By the time he was twenty, he was out and on probation. He moved himself to Lexington, got into college at Bluegrass Technical and Community College and is pursuing a degree in criminal justice. He loves the course work, and he wants to be an attorney. He will transferee to the University of Kentucky law school when he gets done with his undergrad work. There are many things about my son I am so proud of. Like his drive: to get his GED while in treatment, actually before his graduating class in high school. His study habits at school are remarkable, and he does very well on his own. He maintains a wonderful little home for himself, and has such a sense of dwelling space. At his job, he works very hard, and doesn’t mind long, grueling hours. His employers have always been happy with his performance. The other night, just a few nights ago, I was in his store picking up some items I needed. He didn’t know I was in the store, and I was close enough to the register, I could hear him interact with the customers (he didn’t know I was listening, or even that I was in the store). Jonny’s interpersonal communication skills are “top shelf” and his personal charm is absolutely amazing to me. He’s only been working at the store for a couple of months, but he is already leading all employees in signing up customers for the rewards system the store has. No, to say that I am proud of my Son is a vast understatement. To be doing as well as he is doing with the past and demons that he has, I can truly say, not many people would be doing as well as he is. But he struggles. He is young and is trying to be the father that I was to him. He sometimes calls me, crying about things – stresses, or why he can’t seem to feel very good about his parenting. I was 30 years old by the time Jonny came to me. He was only twenty, and had been in jail for a couple of years before that. Compared to my life at his age, he carries the weight of the world on his shoulders, and I worry gravely about him. Last fall, while visiting him, I planted a handful of daffodils in the yard just off his patio at his apartment. I knew these would bloom before the complex started mowing. This past spring, I got a call from his, and he was crying so much, I couldn’t make out what he was saying. The daffodils had bloomed and as he admired them, he called me, crying, saying how lost he would be if I did not beat this cancer. All I could do is assure him that I will beat it. It just reminds me that, on top of everything else, he is dealing with me having cancer too. Jonny and I Have been close his entire life. When he was just a toddler, I would pack us up, and we go camping or come down to Somerset to visit my mom (we lived in Indianapolis). I read to him every night, told him stories, and he and I had conversations about the stars and space and science. He was intensely curious, and I loved that in him, so I fostered it. He doesn’t get to see his Son as often as I saw him. He and the mother of Carter are not yet married and they are not living together. Jonny wants them to live together, but the mother wants to wait until they are married (which I respect). But Jonny sees himself as a failure I think, and it just breaks my heart for him. He is a great father, and loves Carter as much as I loved or love Jonny. Carter is crazy about his daddy. But right now, Jonny is depressed and anxious. With is predisposition for self-medication, I worry about him. I can’t imagine how hard he must work to keep himself “clean”. Jonny calls me every day lately – for advice and help regarding the stresses in his life. I am little help, but I can listen, and I do. I just want to fix everything for him, but that is not how the world works. So if you have another moment, please lift my son up in prayer. James 5:16 says: The prayer of a righteous person has great power as it is working.