Surviving Father’s Day

As is family tradition, we have the extended family over for Father’s Day.  We have made an extra special deal about it for Dad, FOPOB and ULOB because of their enfeebled states.  I think we are over-compensating for our anxiety about losing them, no matter how nuts they make us.

In the midst of a conversation with Dad and SOB about Father’s Day, I overheard SOS say to POB, “but I don’t have a father.”

[Yes that gag you heard breaching the silence was my heart leaping into my throat and cutting off my breathing.]

I forget that we are not like every other family.  But SOS doesn’t forget.  He has two moms, and not a mom and a dad.  I know he misses not having a dad because we have talked about it.

HOSOB, Cousin Gentle, CB, ULOB, Dad and FOPOB will be around the table next Sunday.  All have been role models (after a fashion) for SOS.  But no one is “dad”.

He knows that POB was never going to settle down with a man and have children.  He knows that I am not replacing anyone because either he would have two moms or he wouldn’t exist.

But he is a pre-adolescent boy and this isn’t about societal norms, social/sexual movements or equality.  He is starting to experience that his family is different in ways that sometimes matter.

SOS sees what is around him and he sees the differences. I understand how hard it is to be different but, when I was a pre-adolescent/adolescent, no one knew that I wasn’t straight (except me). My son can’t hide us, and he has to deal with it everyday. I know he loves us and our family. But still . . .

It was POB’s and my decision as adults to have him and it is now his reality to carry into adolescence.

But most devastating is that I forgot his feelings in my fixation on giving the elders, especially Dad, events to look forward to.  I am his mom and I didn’t have his back.

And, really, I should have been thinking about a boy — my boy — and his feelings on Father’s Day.

Because this is really about a boy — my boy.

I am sorry, buddy.  I can’t change things — I will never be your dad — but we will talk about it and I will try not to cry.