| Biographical Non-Fiction posted January 11, 2011 | Chapters: |
...22 23 -24- 25... 
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A story about my oldest son who does not talk to m
A chapter in the book Family Poems and Stories 2010-2017
Once, I had a son named Mikey
by Mustang Patty
Once upon a time I got married when I was eighteen. I didn't know Mike very well, but it had been an exciting six weeks and I wanted to belong to someone. The day after we got married, he decided that he needed to leave for his next military assignment early, so I stood at the bus station waving goodbye.
The marriage lasted for almost five years and the only good to come of it was our son, Mikey. I had named him after his dad because I was told to. Most of the things I did during that time were dictated by this man I convinced myself I loved.
I knew I had to get out. The beatings were getting worse and the emotional damage was erasing the person inside of me. I found somewhere to go and fled. The only thing was I knew that he wouldn't let me go unless I left our son with him.
He was only fifteen months old when I left. He has no memories of living with his mom and he can't understand what his dad could ever have done to make me leave. Through the years, whenever he asked, I did my best to answer his questions. He never got the answer he was looking for.
I remarried and built a new life. Two other children got to grow up with me right in their own house, and this hurt him deeply. He was a smaller version of his dad and the jealousy was strong. He tried to have fun whenever he was with us, but still the little boy inside was hurting.
A plan formed in my head as he entered high school. I offered him an opportunity that I thought was a dream. If he could choose a college that he could drive to from my house, then he could live with us and I would pay his way - and provide the car! I honestly thought it was a good deal in spite of the 'strings.' I knew what it was like to work my way through school and I wanted him to have this one gift.
After months of struggling with the doubts in his head and the lies he heard over the years from his dad and aunt, he decided he couldn't come to live with me. He couldn't tell me straight out, so he started a big argument about the fact that I wasn't willing to let him have cable tv in his room.
The riff healed slowly. We didn't see him for almost six years, and one day I found him on MySpace. I joyously contacted him, and drove to where he lived the next weekend. We spent time together, and I went to the club with him where he DJ'd. His life was going good, and he seemed happy to see me.
But, life went back to hearing from him very little. He rarely called or emailed, and then it stopped all together. He is friends with both of his siblings on FaceBook, but he won't answer my messages. I don't know why, and I'm not sure how to heal it.
My tears will dry and life will go on. My family tries to comfort me when they know there is none. It really hurts to lose a son. Once upon a time, he was my baby.
Once upon a time I got married when I was eighteen. I didn't know Mike very well, but it had been an exciting six weeks and I wanted to belong to someone. The day after we got married, he decided that he needed to leave for his next military assignment early, so I stood at the bus station waving goodbye.
The marriage lasted for almost five years and the only good to come of it was our son, Mikey. I had named him after his dad because I was told to. Most of the things I did during that time were dictated by this man I convinced myself I loved.
I knew I had to get out. The beatings were getting worse and the emotional damage was erasing the person inside of me. I found somewhere to go and fled. The only thing was I knew that he wouldn't let me go unless I left our son with him.
He was only fifteen months old when I left. He has no memories of living with his mom and he can't understand what his dad could ever have done to make me leave. Through the years, whenever he asked, I did my best to answer his questions. He never got the answer he was looking for.
I remarried and built a new life. Two other children got to grow up with me right in their own house, and this hurt him deeply. He was a smaller version of his dad and the jealousy was strong. He tried to have fun whenever he was with us, but still the little boy inside was hurting.
A plan formed in my head as he entered high school. I offered him an opportunity that I thought was a dream. If he could choose a college that he could drive to from my house, then he could live with us and I would pay his way - and provide the car! I honestly thought it was a good deal in spite of the 'strings.' I knew what it was like to work my way through school and I wanted him to have this one gift.
After months of struggling with the doubts in his head and the lies he heard over the years from his dad and aunt, he decided he couldn't come to live with me. He couldn't tell me straight out, so he started a big argument about the fact that I wasn't willing to let him have cable tv in his room.
The riff healed slowly. We didn't see him for almost six years, and one day I found him on MySpace. I joyously contacted him, and drove to where he lived the next weekend. We spent time together, and I went to the club with him where he DJ'd. His life was going good, and he seemed happy to see me.
But, life went back to hearing from him very little. He rarely called or emailed, and then it stopped all together. He is friends with both of his siblings on FaceBook, but he won't answer my messages. I don't know why, and I'm not sure how to heal it.
My tears will dry and life will go on. My family tries to comfort me when they know there is none. It really hurts to lose a son. Once upon a time, he was my baby.
The marriage lasted for almost five years and the only good to come of it was our son, Mikey. I had named him after his dad because I was told to. Most of the things I did during that time were dictated by this man I convinced myself I loved.
I knew I had to get out. The beatings were getting worse and the emotional damage was erasing the person inside of me. I found somewhere to go and fled. The only thing was I knew that he wouldn't let me go unless I left our son with him.
He was only fifteen months old when I left. He has no memories of living with his mom and he can't understand what his dad could ever have done to make me leave. Through the years, whenever he asked, I did my best to answer his questions. He never got the answer he was looking for.
I remarried and built a new life. Two other children got to grow up with me right in their own house, and this hurt him deeply. He was a smaller version of his dad and the jealousy was strong. He tried to have fun whenever he was with us, but still the little boy inside was hurting.
A plan formed in my head as he entered high school. I offered him an opportunity that I thought was a dream. If he could choose a college that he could drive to from my house, then he could live with us and I would pay his way - and provide the car! I honestly thought it was a good deal in spite of the 'strings.' I knew what it was like to work my way through school and I wanted him to have this one gift.
After months of struggling with the doubts in his head and the lies he heard over the years from his dad and aunt, he decided he couldn't come to live with me. He couldn't tell me straight out, so he started a big argument about the fact that I wasn't willing to let him have cable tv in his room.
The riff healed slowly. We didn't see him for almost six years, and one day I found him on MySpace. I joyously contacted him, and drove to where he lived the next weekend. We spent time together, and I went to the club with him where he DJ'd. His life was going good, and he seemed happy to see me.
But, life went back to hearing from him very little. He rarely called or emailed, and then it stopped all together. He is friends with both of his siblings on FaceBook, but he won't answer my messages. I don't know why, and I'm not sure how to heal it.
My tears will dry and life will go on. My family tries to comfort me when they know there is none. It really hurts to lose a son. Once upon a time, he was my baby.
This is a true story. My oldest son, now 30, lives in Yakima, WA - about a five hour drive, and he doesn't call or respond to my emails or text messages. I'm not sure what happened, but I only wish him love, and this spring I may have to make the drive, and show up in his club one Friday night - and tell him that I will always love him.
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