Raising Boys

Tribute to goodness September 12, 2005

Dylan asked me why I would not bring him and his brother to work anymore. He missed those Sundays when I’d bring him and Lennon to the office and we’d pass by SM on our way there to eat or buy stuff.

I told him why and he was gracious and forgiving even in the face of such duplicity.

I told myself I wanted to tell him the truth because I did not want to paint a picture of a beautiful world where he can always expect patience, understanding, and love. I told myself I wanted him to learn there is cruelty here, too, and from the most unexpected of sources.

In reality, my reason for telling him the truth was not so innocent. I wanted an ally, of sorts, against deceitfulness and dishonesty. We could talk about them, laugh about their many failings, dissect their miserable lives that turned them into what they are now.

Thankfully, he’s none of the things I am.

Where I’m vengeful, he’s forgiving. He sees people, not what they’ve done. Which is why, up to the end, he was my father’s favorite, because my hate could not corrupt his love.

Where I’m proud, he’s humble. He’s first in this class but sees his classmates to be just as intelligent.

Where I’m vindictive, he’s kind. He finds it easy to praise and his heart has no room for insults. He bears no grudges and loves unconditionally. He understands my meanness, my anger, and diffuses these with his love.

I have stood over his bed countless times and watched him sleep, marveling at the miracle that has made him what he is. And always, I say a little prayer as my heart swells with gratitude to a power that has seen fit to make him mine to love.