Closer

Hey, mom. I never told you this, but I wish there was a closer relationship between us. That might sound bad on the surface. I should explain.

I've always felt more comfortable with our family than others. That's not really all that unusual, I don't think. There's so many different dynamics that are hard to get used to. For me, the dynamic hardest to get used to is the openly emotional kind. The kind of family that always wants to be together and do things together. The ones that share secrets as they happen and not when it becomes an actual issue. The ones that plan family trips every year. The ones we did plan always seemed to become more of an annoyance to you than actually fun, largely with the inclusion of my grandparents.

That emotional side isn't something that gets visited very often in our dynamic. The first time I remember you saying "I love you" was at my high school graduation. I've never had a great memory, so maybe that's more on me, but that was a situation I remember more vividly. We talked late into the night on how proud you were of the man I'd become. There always seemed to be something else that needed to be said. I could never put my finger on it until years later.

I found out that I never knew my biological father when I was in my mid to late 20s. It was never something I had thought to ask. I never had a great relationship with my distant dad either, but I just chalked that up to him not having been ready to be a father when I came along. I found out because I needed my birth certificate to get a new driver's license in the state I moved to. Would I have found out if I had never moved away? I honestly don't know the answer to that. This is the same family that didn't tell me I had Tourette's until I was in college because we thought I would milk it in school.

This all sounds harsh, but I don't actually have hard feelings about it. The important part came after the fact, trying to describe who my father was, why you kept him a secret, why the family as a whole kept him a secret. It become clear that you were worried how I saw you. My father was a bad guy and you met him in terrible circumstances. It's understandable that this isn't the proudest memory.

The important part here wasn't that it was kept from me. The important part is that I understand the sacrifices you took for me. You dropped out of school. You gave me to my grandparents to raise me at their request. I can only imagine how hard that must have been for someone who wanted to raise their first child. Some people would have left it at that. Some people would have left them in the care of the grandparents who already had their life together and continued doing what they wanted with their life. You didn't, though. You pulled your life together. You got your GED. You got a job, a stable apartment. You quit partying and smoking and all the self-destructive vices you indulged in. You visited me every day.

It sounds like the basic guidelines for a mother, but it's something you didn't need to do. You set your life right and I can't even remember the time I spent with my grandparents during those early years. You found someone who was definitely a socially awkward and immature mess himself, but a good father. He provided for me. He never used the fact that I wasn't biologically his against me.

Even after you divorced him, I was the final ask on whether or not someone would stick around. If I didn't like him, they were gone, no questions asked. You helped me with school, relearning areas you hadn't been particularly good at until you could. You gave me a nice childhood, albeit a little sheltered. You took me seriously when something bothered me and were always ready to help in whatever way you could. You kept me surrounded by good family and good friends. You worked hard to separate yourself from the way you remembered being raised and brought me up the best you could.

Even with how I close myself off, I come to you with my problems. Whenever it feels like it's too much to handle, you are the first one I call. I called you when my car got totaled while I was at work. I called you when I caught COVID and didn't know if I was going to be able to keep my apartment at the end of the month from my lost hours. I don't do the best at keeping in touch with people, but there are only a handful of people I try to make it a point to all once a week at the bare minimum and you always try to make time for me in return despite juggling a job and another teenager and a whole household with not a ton of help from the other occupants.

Despite all the flaws, I love you for that. My biological father was one mistake out of many, but you tried to right every one of them for me in whatever way you could. I could never ask for me. So, in regards to him, I'm not disappointed. I'm proud to have you as my mom and I just want to present myself in a way that continues to make you proud to have me as your son.

The only thing I wish for is that you would have more faith in that reaction. I don't think there is a scenario where I could not be proud after all the sacrifices you've made for me. I can only be thankful and continue to try and make you proud.

I love you, mom.