When “I’m sorry, I was wrong” isn’t enough.
My oldest son’s birthday was last week. We’ve had a strained relationship for a long time. It’s been painful, yet filled with pearls of wisdom and, of course, growth. I’ll be the first to admit I’ve made poor choices and mistakes that have lead to some of my darkest days, sitting in my shadows (of which there are many) crying, going over the “what ifs” and the “should haves.” And most of the time I feel like I’ve come out the other side. I’ve come to realize that sometimes the “I’m sorry” or the “I was wrong” isn’t enough, because the other party may not see the value in those statements, or maybe even in the relationship. They can’t (or choose not to) see that maybe the moving forward is worth more than putting someone in the proverbial penalty box for an indeterminate amount of time.
I’ve been in my son’s penalty box for quite a while now. I don’t think there was any one conversation or misunderstanding that landed me here. It’s been a slow build, a series of miscommunications, mistakes, missed opportunities. Too much went unsaid, undiscussed. The distance between us had time to flourish and grow in the days when it seemed easier to just let it go, to tip toe around tough conversation as a means to avoid an argument.
But the problem is, these unspoken fractures eroded the very foundation of our relationship, because eventually, it became too much for him to have any sort of relationship with me.
All I did (inadvertently, of course) was add to the dysfunction every time I told myself we would talk about it later, or that he would come to me when he was through to the other side of whatever he was going through. In taking the “easy” path, I created a situation where I could never be honest about my thoughts and feelings for fear of him getting angry with me. In the end (at least up to now) I lost anyway.
Is it possible for there to be something between us? Who knows. I sent what I thought was a benign birthday text, respecting his boundaries yet still honoring him and my experience as his Mom. I didn’t get a response. It stung, of course, but it’s okay because I love him and he is my son, whether he and I ever share the same space again. He is a wonderful father, loving husband, and successful businessman. So even if I did everything wrong, I find peace in knowing that I had some hand in helping him become the man he is today. And I am proud of him. He is able to navigate his life, his way, and be happy doing it. What more could I want for my son?
