Missing My Son

DECEMBER 30 2009 2302 - JACKSONVILLE FL - 2009 is slowly creeping into obscurity, and soon 2010 will be here. You know, today I am not going to do a summary. No, I will not do a run down of how my day went. My spirit is far too vexed for that at this moment in life. Instead, I will talk about what it is that is presently vexing my spirit.

 

I miss my son. Just plain and simply put, I miss my son and it is killing me. I know that I did nothing to him, nor did I do anything to deserve his vindictive mother pulling him away from me the way she did. I lay awake at night not knowing if I should cry, scream, or act out in some overly aggressive manner.

 

I go above and beyond to do for others, only to be the one who is stabbed in the back, and for what? Because I maintain silence to avoid a confrontation? Because I go for walks instead of unleashing the full wrath of my discontent upon some ignorant black female? Because instead of sleeping with an oppressor, I elect to distance myself until I am sure that it is safe to address the situation? Because I am not like most black men, who would have beaten the hell out of the woman in their life in an attempt to exert some primitive form of order in the house? Again I ask, what did I do to deserve my son to be pulled away from me? Someone help me to understand this warped piece of South Carolinian logic, because I am going to be honest, I am at a loss to understand what it is that I did so wrong?

 

You know, people world see a man crying and look at him as if he is weak; however, they fail to realize that it takes more strength for a man to cry than it does for a man to fain as if he has no emotions. Here is a news flash, I am a human being. I feel, I hurt, I fall victim to the same frailties as most women.

 

I miss my son, and I miss him badly. He did nothing to me, and I did nothing to him. I simply would not allow myself to fall victim to a mentally abusive, controlling and vindictively spiteful woman, who was jealous of the relationship I had with my son.

 

I do not know if I will ever be allowed to interact with my son ever again. As a result, I continue to do what it is I have become accustomed to doing and that is asking God to bless and keep him in my absence. Should I never see him again, should I close my eyes that final and fateful time, I only wish my son to be privy to the truth that I love him very much, and I thank God for blessing me with him for the brief moment he did.