i was going to call this the shattered heart, but i realized that i’m not really shattered.
two weeks ago, after a trivial argument that took place a day before jordan was to come to live with us again, jordan being rick’s 17 year old son, rick decided that he was not only not coming, but that rick was going to sell the house, and that we would go our separate ways.
last december, after the first failed attempt to have the boy live with us, rick made the same declamation, and i counseled patience – make no decision of this magnitude in the heat of anger.
for the next few months, we slowly rebuilt the joy in our relationship that had seemed to have been flattened out by my foolish optimism. somehow i thought that i could improve jordan’s lot in life by allowing him to have the chance to get to know his father on a deeper level than the long-distance phone service and occasional summer visits allow. each day that went by the sparkle in his eyes came back. each night the sense of home was deepened by our intimacy.
in june or july, we reached a plateau of deepening; there was a bit of a chill. i’m not realy sure why, just that we seemed stuck.
a few weeks ago, jordan called us desparate to be let to come out here. his mom was promising to send him to foster care if he couldn’t be allowed out here. rick didn’t want him to come out. i made a case for it, and rick conceded. suddenly, there was a barrier thrown up between us. we started to bicker about inconsequentials. i knew how tragically the last attempt had turned out, why did i think it could be different this time? my strategy for this attempt was completely different this time. i was armed with knowledge gained from reading jordan’t psychiatric history, and from seeing how hopelessly ill-equipped rick was to be a parent. i had a plan to deal with those issues. rick wouldn’t try to parent, but rather just try to be jordan’s friend. i would handle the parenting chores. rick seemed like this would be a good plan to try. there were other details, but for brevity, we’ll leave it at that.
then the blow-out. it’s details are unimportant. but when i cooled down and came back home, rick made his pronouncement. i sat on the sofa, not particularly shocked, but not completely unsurprised, neither. inside i decided that i wasn’t going to fight this again.
rick’s issues with his sexuality are far deeper than any skill i possess to help guide to light. i don’t want to fix him – he has to do that himself, but i figured that if he had healthy gay guides around him – and i have several friends to help model healthy gay living – and a supportive network of friends and family around him – also, there is plenty of that – that he would be able to deal with his issues himself. maybe he still could, but i don’t want to be the one to deal with it anymore.
there is a distant pain that i know is my own. it hasn’t provoked any tears. i fear for jordan. he is handsome, intelligent, charming, hard-working, but plagued by his severe ADHD, and the drugs that keep him from learning how to cope. he can be all that and a bag of chips, if he can learn how to manage his life. i fear for rick. he wants to move to a place that he can afford on his own. he thinks that reno may be an answer. i keep telling him that he needs to be near people that care about him. i worry about me. i don’t really hurt – the pain is so muted that it may as well not even exist. isn’t that odd?
i looked at a couple of apartments downtown yesterday – one far too small, the other larger, but still iffy about whether or not my living room furniture will fit it. i bought this beautiful sofa, chair and ottoman back in my dot-com heyday. i paid a lot of money for them, and i want to get more than two years of use out of them. i’ll keep on looking.
i know i’m not cut out for the “normal” life – i’m never going to have the type of “married” relationship that others do. i am a catalyst; i recognized this years ago.
my life is meant for service to others, for selflessness. when i lived in the city of frank, i met several guys who were just coming out. i helped them to become more themselves. when i worked with the band, it was largely the same thing: i took on tasks that needed to be done so the musicians could become something more. my work as a chanter in church, my time in the navy, all of these things are lives that i have lived to be of service to others. it’s the highest order of living. it is transcendent joy. it is life.
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