A Time To Weep
Stories
Shining Moments
Visions Of The Holy In Ordinary Lives
Christina Berry
A dear friend's eldest son, age 31, died unexpectedly in early June in a city on the West Coast. As she and her husband were planning to travel there, from Arizona, to attend a memorial service his friends and partner had arranged, and to collect his things, she told me that her husband did not know their son was gay. The relationship between father and son had been strained in the past, and we were sure her husband, a really traditional guy, would not handle this information well.
"How could he not know?" I asked. "Are you going to tell him?" She said she would wait and see.
They had so much to deal with in their preparations that we never had a chance to talk again before their trip. Amidst much chaos and grief, they left home.
On the plane, she said something in passing about their son and his roommate. Her husband answered, referring to the roommate as their son's partner.
My friend said, "Where did you learn that?"
"Well, he told me."
"What did he say?"
Her husband related what their son had told him.
"When did you find out?" my friend asked, shocked.
"Two years ago, that time I was in the hospital."
"Why didn't you say anything to me?"
Her husband looked surprised. "Didn't you know?" he asked. She was so relieved she didn't have anything more to say.
When they arrived at the home of their son's friend, where the memorial service was being held, the first person they saw was the son's partner. My friend said her big, macho husband looked at this bereaved young man, went to him, enfolded him in his arms and said, "Thank you for loving my son." And the two of them wept together.
A dear friend's eldest son, age 31, died unexpectedly in early June in a city on the West Coast. As she and her husband were planning to travel there, from Arizona, to attend a memorial service his friends and partner had arranged, and to collect his things, she told me that her husband did not know their son was gay. The relationship between father and son had been strained in the past, and we were sure her husband, a really traditional guy, would not handle this information well.
"How could he not know?" I asked. "Are you going to tell him?" She said she would wait and see.
They had so much to deal with in their preparations that we never had a chance to talk again before their trip. Amidst much chaos and grief, they left home.
On the plane, she said something in passing about their son and his roommate. Her husband answered, referring to the roommate as their son's partner.
My friend said, "Where did you learn that?"
"Well, he told me."
"What did he say?"
Her husband related what their son had told him.
"When did you find out?" my friend asked, shocked.
"Two years ago, that time I was in the hospital."
"Why didn't you say anything to me?"
Her husband looked surprised. "Didn't you know?" he asked. She was so relieved she didn't have anything more to say.
When they arrived at the home of their son's friend, where the memorial service was being held, the first person they saw was the son's partner. My friend said her big, macho husband looked at this bereaved young man, went to him, enfolded him in his arms and said, "Thank you for loving my son." And the two of them wept together.
