The day trip...and the guilt trip.

Ah, Daniel. What is it about this son of mine that evokes feelings that somehow my other children don't? That is by no means saying he is favourite, none of my kids are my favourite, they are all different and bring out such varying emotions in me it is scarey, there is also no denying that some are easier to be with than others...just as people we meet outside our families are different. Some people feel like comfy slippers, others feel like too tight shoes that almost cripple you but you love them so much and wanted them so much that you'll be damned if you're going to give up on them and you keep cramming your feet into them until either your feet drop off or the shoes mould to the shape of your feet and become heavenly.
Daniel has always been the best pair of slippers. The moment I clapped eyes on him I was completely and utterly smitten, I felt that baby's soul and saw his greatness in his eyes and knew, absolutely that he would never be anything but perfect.
He was a sweet little boy who, from the youngest age, just wanted more than anything for people to be happy, he has been a 'server' and a 'giver' always, when he was 6 he went to see Santa and took his pocket money, he also took hs most favourite packet of chocolate biscuits. When it was his turn to see Santa, he gave him the money and the biscuits and said " I want you to have this, i want you to buy something for yourself because I never hear of any stories with you in it where someone gives YOU something,so I want you to have this. The biscuits are for some children that don't have anything. I love these biscuits and if I think about some of the kids in the world that never ever have anything like this I can't even enjoy them myself. I don't know why the world is like this but I do know that you go all over the world so when you see the kids that would be happiest with these, give them to them and then I'll be happy too."
Have you ever seen Santa cry?
I had no idea he was going to do any of it..only when my friend (who was Santa's wife) told me, did I know what he'd done and said.
When we were out yesterday we saw a woman who was so obviously mentally ill....she was pushing a stroller full of tied bags and a teddy and she was a big women with a purple skirt tucked in her knickers....not a pretty sight! She has enormous boobs swinging unrestrained in a spaghetti strap top and she took a shine to Dan ( show me a woman who doesn't!!) as we crossed the street she was cat calling and yelling at him and swinging those pendulous boobs at him.....I kid you not, he actually gagged! he did laugh when a passing motorist yelled out of his window
" Hey man! You got enough for lunch and dinner there...OOOOOWHEEEEEEEEE!" when we were out of earshot he said " ugh...What kind of life must that kid have?"
I laughed and told him that there hadn't been a kid in the pram, just bags and a teddy....
his reply...." oh no....she must be sick, you never know anyones real story do you? She might have just been treated like crap her whole life and now all she has in in that pram....."
Just a good man, a real man and a compassionate and gentle soul.
This is where I tell you the bits about me that won't get a pat on the back or a chorus of "aren't you the best" I really, really have had the hardest time coming to terms with Dan being gay, I have been so sad that there have been days I didn't think I would ever be able to even think of Dan and not have my heart weep, scream even, on some days. I can absolutely understand any parents pain or fear when discovering their child is gay, what I don't understand is anger at the child, rejecting their child or wanting to change their child at the cost of the child's happiness or even sanity.
I have never, even for a second, stopped loving him, or been disappointed in him, not ever had a flicker of shame or embarrassment but I have cried and cried more than it's possible to explain.
When we first asked Daniel if he was gay and he said yes, he refused to talk to me, for weeks. When I made it impossible for him to avoid me, he was so angry, so defensive and so ready for me to spit hell and damnation at him. Dear Lord, if that wasn't the saddest part.
I am a Mormon, pretty strong one until relatively recently. I loved everything I knew, believed everything I loved, raised my children in the gospel that to me had every answer. I taught them the way my mother taught me, that this was a glorious way to live and show a faith in God and His son Jesus Christ. Everything I did as my kids were growing was as an example and a testiment to them that I believed what I lived.
I have never been a damnation christian, my Lord is so loving and so understanding and so infinitely all knowing that everything that left my lips in reference to Him was ( and is) testifying to the fact that we are so inferior when it comes to loving that we can't even begin to understand just how great the love is that the Lord and His son have for us. I have always felt that to show a love for God you just have to live as He asked and love one another. I am under no illusions that at some point we will all have to answer to everything we have done in this life. I believe that the least of our worries will be about who we loved.
How can some people who proclaim to follow Christ actually believe that people who sleep around with the oposite sex, treat them like animals, beat their wives, cheat on their husbands etc are merely misguided and will be fine, if only they say sorry and say they follow Christ but gay people...no matter if they are monogomous, loyal, loving, trustworthy and kind are destined for the depths of hell? It's all so alien to me that I don't even think about it if I can help it.
Anyway.... Dan was sure that because of the way I had lived and the way I had raised him I would hate him. My heart breaks even to remember a glimmer of that time when I had to convince him that this wasn't so.
When he was a little boy and had been so horrifically abused , even then, even when my mind was screaming, my heart was breaking and I thought I would die from the agony of knowing what had happened to my boys...even then, I was careful of what I said.....with every disclosure ( and there was FOUR YEARS of them) of what had transpired that day I would have to explain that what had happened to them was bad because the man was big and they were little. It was wrong because they were afraid and didn't want what was being done to them. Even then I never ever said " that was bad, that was dirty, that should never ever happen" because I wanted to be so sure that as they grew, they would understand that with someone you love, these could be beautiful things, even then I somehow knew that I had to allow Dan to know that if he wanted this when he was an adult it would be fine.
When we had managed to get past that time when he couldn't accept that I wasn't disgusted with him, when he knew that I loved him the same, was as proud of him as I had ever been, he came to see me.
When he came out of the train station and I saw my boy, saw that he was the same son I have adored forever I knew then that he would never know that I had even a whisper of sadness. What I feel is my problem and not his, what I wish is my wish, not his. We talked and talked and I did tell him that it was hard for me to understand how he felt because I don't feel it and if I could choose, it would be that he wasn't gay because it's just easier to be straight. I also told him that for now, on a need to know basis, I didn't need to know. If he promised not to tell me about his sex life, I wouldn't tell him about mine , brilliant deal that one, I'm not sure who is the most grateful for it!
I also said that he would probably have to be patient with me and it might take a while before I could see him with anyone. I'm really not proud of that but I so want never to hurt him and I am one of those people who just can't hide emotions, if I had seen him with a man in thos early days I'm pretty sure I would have crumpled in a heap and I couldn't bear the thought of every doing that to him. I also couldn't bear to feel any sadder than I already did at that stage. So we took it slowly and he would mention Shawn, one visit I asked to see a picture and he showed me. I looked and said something pathetic like " oh he looks nice" and gulped back tears for 3 hours til he left. The picture he showed me was of Shawn on the floor looking for socks. In underwear. Shit, shit...he's done it......oh please don't let it be true, please God not this one, I have dealt with being abused myself , living with the hideous and heartbreaking knowledge of the nightmare my boys lived through, I have been homeless and had to have my kids sleep in a tent for a year in a back yard in L.A. I have had a child diagnosed as disabled ( whoohoo get to live that one again, lucky me) I was a single mother for 10 years...haven't I had my share of big stuff to deal with? GIVE ME A BREAK! PLEASE don't ask me to deal with this. ( interesting isn't it that I should pray, does that perhaps prove that, for me, there isn't a shred of doubt that Dan was made this way, by God? It has to be....no-one would choose to feel as he felt, no-one would choose the life most gay people are faced with in this unforgiving and judgemental world. )
So, next was the visit with Shawn, the real live, honest to goodness person. Gay person. My son's gay person. More silent prayers " Oh please help me not cry, let me make them feel happy"...blah blah blah. And there they were, my glorious, masculine, handsome beloved son and his beloved. A little man with a typically gay voice, make up, jewellery and a safari jacket, really, yes a safari jacket . What I saw, actually, inside that jacket, was someone else's beloved son. Not some preverted weirdo who had somehow turned my son into a freak, just a sweet and gentle boy who loved my son and was loved BY my son. Hmmmmm. Imagine.
We spent a few hours together, with Sophie and Jordan and we had a blast, Jordan is decidely irreverent and guffawingly funny and bless him if he didn't just have all of us in tears of mirth the whole evening and Shawn, bless him too, he stayed in the back ground a bit, we took pictures and he wouldn't be in any of them saying that this was family time and he was happy to be there but was just as happy to be in the background.





They went home and I suppose I was in a turmoil.
Shawn, I think, has had some rough times in his life as a gay man, he seems afraid and likes gay clubs and places where he knows he can be who he is and not be punched, threatened and made miserable and to see these 2 young men , who love each other and are faithful to each other ( and lets face it, not many men of 18-19 choose monogomy do they?!) were afraid, worried the hoteliers would know they were gay, afraid they would be ' sussed' if they went out together at night in this area they didn't know. I am heartsore that they can't hold hands in the street, can't stop as they walk along and just kiss....of course they could, but what would they face if they did that? I hate it. Seeing them together that first time, even though it was quite a short visit, made my fierce protective instincts kick in. I might not understand homosexuality and it might be alien and scarey to me but I will never have to feel fear or shame because I love my husband, I can hold hands and kiss him in public and when we are old people will think we're sweet.....I want the same for my child.
I have seen Shawn very briefly a couple of times since then but he has weekends off and Dan always has weekdays off so Dan visits on his own. When I went to see them this thursday I was afraid. I'm not very sure what I was afraid of but I'm afraid of a lot of things that most people don't even think of ( it's a kick back from the boys having been abducted, that took away the safe feeling of terrible things only happening to other people , now I am sure that every terrible thing will happen to me and mine. ) Off the beaten track for a second, I felt exhilleration when I caught the train, changed twice.....some demons conquered on thursday as I don't like going out unless I am in the car or with other people, I did that on my own and loved it, nothing bad happened, back packing 'round Australia next week then!)
So, Shawn was working and most of the day we were alone, my Dan and I, but my feelings changed on thursday, I saw this beautiful home that these 2 have made and I watched my son shine when he showed me around this tiny little one bed apartment by the river. I listened to him as he told me how Shawn had bought this, put together that. He bought stuff to make a curry because although we had a great pub lunch of steak and ale pie, Shawn would be starving when he got home.

I saw him look at the clock and felt him know that Shawn would be home soon and then here he was, the same small, quiet, immaculate Shawn, the reason for the little trays of seashells in the bathroom and the DVD's in alphabetical order. The reason for my son's joy.
I sat so still, and so quietly when they said Hello and Shawn showed Dan what he had bought with the money his gran had given him for passing his exams with such great results...and I knew, really knew that my son is both loved and happy. It has taken a long time but I think I can really say that it doesn't matter anymore that he is loved by a man, that he loves a man. If it's wrong then so be it, it just seems so much more right than watching him with a hard faced girl who nags him, who knows if that would be his fate if he weren't gay, not me, I don't know and actually it is a relief for me not to have to imagine any more.
I can tell you that Dan and I shopped, we bought power ranger stuff til we could hardly carry anymore, for my Isaac who is 4 on wednesday.
We had a great lunch and went in to where Dan works.
We jumped on a sightseeing bus to take a historical tour of historical Bath and jumped right off when they wanted £9 each!

We sat outside the abbey and ate the most delicious and sickly ice-creams and watched Juggling..and Dan hid behind his hand and said " Dear God, look at that, I just KNOW Shawn will be like that when he's older" and looked over to see someone who must surely have been called Tarquin or Gervais...white shoes, black socks, white pants, black shirt and white silk scarf.....coffee in one hand tiny and dainty ice cream in the other, legs crossed and mesmerized by the violin player in the courtyard. I could tell you all that but none of it matters.
What matters, is that my son is happy and I am at peace with that.