Finding Peace in the Silence

“Your children are not your children. They are the sons and the daughters of life’s longing for itself” —Kahlil Gibran

I don’t remember exactly when it went south. I can narrow down the year but not the exact day or even month.

He was my firstborn, my pride and joy, my little man. He was my everything, and still is, even though he feels a million miles away. And not just in the geographical sense—in the emotional sense, too. It’s like we lost each other somewhere along the way. I remember when he was small that he always had to sit closest to me, always had to hold my hand; even as I pushed the cart at the grocery store, he would insist that we interlace fingers. Oh, how I long for those days again. The days when I pushed him on the swing while he giggled and shouted, “Higher, higher,” and screeched as I ran under the swing to face him. The days where he would fall asleep with his head on my lap, ask me to rub his back, or beg for just one more story at bedtime.

His sister came along and the dynamic changed, but he still remained my sweet baby boy. My little man, always kind, caring, compassionate, and loving. I’ve watched him grow from a distance and have always tried to be there for him emotionally though I wasn’t there physically. As he grew, so did the distance between us and he wanted less and less time together. The distance has never changed how much love I have for him, how much love I will always have for him. He was my firstborn, my precious boy, and I will continue to hold on to that bond, because no amount of distance will ever break that.

Now he’s all grown up and we have little to no relationship, which breaks my heart. I respect the path he has chosen, respect that at this point in his life, there is no room for me. It breaks me up inside but I respect it because it is his decision and I will not force my way into his heart.

I think that absence makes the heart grow fonder and that we all need to work through things in our own way. Perhaps we both have lessons to learn and we are meant to do so separately so that when we connect again, it will be on a higher level of love, peace, and respect. I hope he knows that when that time comes, when he is ready, when he is willing, I will be waiting on the sidelines, arms wide open.