I've got a son off at college, for two years. He never calls and hardly texts. Holidays and birthdays have gone by without even a text.
We drove to his college twice and he was too busy to see us. I thought we had a great relationship. Always gave him love and support.
Recently, we found out he was visiting town with his girlfriend and he didn't even let us know or come by.
I have a letter for your son:
On my birthday last year, I sat on my porch and watched the sky. I sipped beer, took deep breaths, and counted stars.
I was thinking about a dead man. But I wasn’t sad—sadness wore off many years ago. I was lonely. And loneliness never fully goes away.
A little about me:
I learned how to drive stick-shift on my own. I learned how to tie a necktie by reading a book. I never learned to shave.
I guess what I’m trying to say is that the biggest parts of my life happened
without my father.
For instance, when I was younger, I bought a truck. I presented a boxful of cash to the lady selling it. It was a big day.
When she handed me the title, I was king of the Wiregrass. I wanted to tell Daddy about it. I wanted someone to be proud of me.
And my wedding, of course. I was alone that day, too. I stood in the groom’s dressing room. I looked at my reflection and talked to myself.
“You’re a good boy, Sean,” I said aloud. I pretended it was Daddy saying those words.
And when I finished writing my first book. My wife threw a small party. There were illegal amounts of biscuits, tomato gravy, Conecuh Quickfreeze sausage, and Hank Williams music. Family. Friends. Layer cake.