A Hell of Her Own Making

This came to my attention via the Friendly Atheist: it’s called Giving Your Child to the Devil and it happened to be posted on the author’s son’s wedding day, which is one hell of a way to commemorate that sort of occasion.

However, the young man in question wasn’t marrying a nice young lady. He happened to be marrying another guy. Here’s where it gets sticky. We’ll be dealing with some pretty nasty stuff here as well, such as abandonment, so if that’s too much for you, stop right now. We’ll get into the heart of this matter right after the jump.

I have not seen my son in nearly two and a half years now and there are days that the pain is just as fresh as ever. Until now, I have kept this pain inside and shared with only a couple of my closest friends. I am not sure that a day has gone by that I have not shed tears. Sometimes it is a single tear and other days are gut wrenching cries of despair. I have pulled into my driveway with tears blinding my eyes, only to find myself literally screaming and wailing in grief. I’m devastated by our loss; his loss.

Uh, Kim? Here’s a newsflash for you: YOUR SON IS STILL ALIVE. You can, at any time, drop this and visit him. You can apologize. You can say, “I handled that completely wrong. Let’s sit down and talk about this.” In other words, you can do a wonderful thing called “making amends”. It isn’t too late. But I’m wasting my time here; you will simple wail and moan and play the victim, all the while claiming that it was somehow your child’s fault. (How dare he grow up gay! The very nerve!)

I feel desperation and hopelessness. I’m scared. What probably began as harmless flirtation with sin has now become a quicksand that pulls my son deeper and deeper toward Hell. Sometimes I feel jealous of other parents who have close, loving relationships with all their grown children. I feel embarrassed by what my son has done.

And by that you mean, “I am totes embarrassed that my child grew up into an ickie gay person”. You can’t deal with the idea that he’s doing that with someone of the same sex and it just grosses you out to no end whenever you obsess think about it. Dear heavens, what will the neighbors think?!

If I could roll my eyes that far back into my head, I might just end up staring at my cerebral cortex for a while.

The fact is, I don’t know this person that I once thought I knew so well. Was I blind to things that I should have seen? I believed our relationship was so close. I adored this child. Was the love our son expressed to us all a lie? How does one go from being a respectful obedient child to flagrantly disregarding everything we taught him and everything that we stand for?

Yes, you were blind because you only saw what you wanted to see. You had a mental image of your son, of this “perfect and godly” child as a straight person. When that was shattered, you couldn’t handle it. So, you tossed him aside, because you couldn’t handle the idea that your precious boy might grow up and marry a dude.

A full night’s sleep…what is that? While I am able to fall asleep easily, there is not a night that goes by that I sleep until morning. I awaken in the middle of the night, and the first thought in my mind is that I had just had a terrible dream, but I soon realize that it wasn’t a dream, it is reality; my reality.

Oh please. Do shut the hell up now. If you want to hear about a nightmare, you should talk to my mother-in-law, who had to bury her twenty-five year old son back in 2005. Wavebreaker was diagnosed with refractory non-Hodgkin lymphoma. He fought like hell but there was only so much medical science could do.

He died in December of that year. If you want to hear about a nightmare, well, there you go. I don’t know how many nights my mother-in-law lay awake, worrying and weeping over her middle child. I can’t begin to count the number of tears she has shed over the last twelve years.

That, Kim, is a nightmare. One of gross proportions that my mother-in-law will never wake. Because that is her reality. Because her child is dead and she will never see him again. The only thing she has are pictures and memories. She can’t do anything with him now. She can’t call him up and say hi, she can’t invite him over for dinner, she can’t hug him.

Let that sink in for a moment. She can’t hug her child because he is dead. Buried. Gone. There is nothing left of him. Yet you, Kim, are moaning over the fact that you can’t deal with your son’s gayness and you abandoned him.

You can change your reality at any point right now. My mother-in-law can’t. Tell me again why I should feel sorry for you?

I try to picture where my son is now and what he may be doing. I hurt. Sin is ugly. It is disgusting. It perverts. While I don’t want to know, I find myself drawn to his social media like watching two cars collide. I want to look away, but I can’t. I care too much.

Let me blunt here: you do not care about this man. What you care about is the fantasy you created regarding this man. Secretly–or not so secretly–you hope to see that he has renounced “the lifestyle”, known that you were right all along and vows to settle down with a nice, young Christian girl in order to start a family.

The reality of the situation? That will never happen. You know that. But you keep watching his social media accounts, hoping beyond hope that he’ll morph into the man you believed he was.

Sometimes the hardest thing are the memories. Remembering the joy I felt in that plump baby who looked at me so adoringly. I remember when he sat on the kitchen counter helping peel potatoes or stir ingredients into the batter. I remember our home school days at the kitchen table and reading together on the couch. I remember singing harmony together in the kitchen. I remember the pride I felt when he led singing or gave a talk at young men’s night at church. Those memories are all I have left now. There are no more to make.

That is entirely your decision. You are the one that has decided that you can’t deal with your son’s “ickie-poo gayness” and you’re left with memories. You could make more, of course, but that would require you to–oh, I don’t know–accept the fact that your son is gay. We all know that this can never happen. You love Jesus too much to ever go back to caring about your “despicable” gay son.

As it was said on the Friendly Atheist, regarding this article:

People often ask why atheists care so much about a God we don’t believe in. This is why. We see the harm religion can do to people who take it seriously. When people are brainwashed into thinking certain sins are unacceptable, it can tear apart families for no good reason. Hell, many atheists have been cut off from friends and family members who want nothing to do with them anymore because they dare to challenge religious dogma.

This is also why I haven’t told my parents that I’m an atheist. I know my mother would flip if she found out. Dad, maybe not so much. But Mom would flip her lid if she discovered my atheism. However, I digress at this point.

Occasionally, I may see a young man that looks like my son. Or, I may be cleaning out a closet and see a photograph. I may be asked by a well-meaning person, where my son is now. All these make me cry. He was such a handsome boy, an excellent student, a talented musician, so kind and thoughtful of others. He never gave us trouble while at home. He loved his siblings. I remember his “infectious laugh.”

My mother-in-law went through that. I did too, after Wavebreaker died. I thought I saw him several times in the old Walmart where I worked. Several times, I had to stop myself from following after a young man wearing a black cowboy hat, because at first glance I thought it was Wavebreaker.

But it wasn’t him. Ever last one of those young men were impostors. I would never Wavebreaker him again. I knew that. But Kim, you can. Your son is alive. He just happens to be a gay man, which is something you don’t want to acknowledge or accept. Emphasis mine:

Mother’s day and Father’s day are so hard. While we used to receive the most precious cards and notes of love and appreciation, now any correspondence from him are filled with anger, blame, hateful words. Even worse are the sarcastic and blasphemous words used toward his heavenly Father.

Yes, this man is going to use angry words. Why? BECAUSE HE IS ANGRY. You refused to accept who he was and you rejected him, not the other way around. So don’t act surprised when he reacts in anger.

Also, blasphemy is not a crime in the United States. Quite frankly, it shouldn’t be considered a crime anywhere. But on top of that, tell me why he should say anything nice about the god who has pretty much said, “I don’t welcome your kind.”

Self evaluation, guilt, despair, fear….I have felt all these emotions. Who is a perfect parent? Who doesn’t have something that they would change if they could go back. Even so, I know that we were good parents. We loved our son, spent time with him, encouraged him, and taught him God’s word.

How about no. Does no work for you?

You took care of this child. Great. But spending all the time in the world with him will not “ungay” him. Throwing biblical quotes at him? That won’t “ungay” him, either. He is who he is and you can’t wrap your head around that.

Heaven will be a place of great reunion with those who have gone on before. There is an old hymn that invites everyone to “come to the feast”. I just wish we didn’t have an empty chair at our table.

That chair doesn’t have to remain empty. You could try to reach out, apologize, make amends and accept your son. Then that chair wouldn’t be empty anymore. You’d have more memories. But that would require you to accept this young man at face value, to accept that he will never be straight, that he will always be what you consider, a sinner. Sharon Hambrick puts it best:

You made this all about you. Indeed, you know that. “I feel embarrassed by what my son has done.” And there it is—we have a winner! Admitting the problem is the first step to recovery. You’re embarrassed. It’s so gay, after all! How could a gay child have come out of your womb, your home, your faithful teaching of the Bible? How could anyone, brought up by YOU possibly be GAY?

Exactly. All you want right now is for someone to pat your head and say, “I’m so sorry, honey.” You’ll have to get that from someplace else, as I’m all out of fucks to give here.

I’ll admit it; I’m being pretty harsh on this author. But this is a hell of her own creation and one that she can walk away from at any given moment. Her child is very much alive and probably well. She could have a relationship with him but has chosen to cut him off because he’s gay. Meanwhile, my mother-in-law leaves virtual notes to her deceased son on a website. For that reason alone, I can’t scrape up a lot of sympathy for Kim and her supposed “loss”.

About Silverwynde

I'm a Transformers fan, Pokémon player, Brewers fan and all-out general nerd. I rescue abandoned Golett, collect as many Bumblebee decoys and figures as I can find and I've attended every BotCon--official and non--since 1999. I'm also happily married to a fellow Transfan named Prime and we were both owned by a very intelligent half-Siamese cat, who crossed the Rainbow Bridge on June 16, 2018. We still miss him. But we're now the acting staff of a Maine Coon kitty named Lulu, who pretty much rules the house. Not that we're complaining about that.
This entry was posted in Abuse, Bitter Truths, Family Matters, Grief, LGBTQ, Sex And Gender Acceptance and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.