Second Chances

I have always heard that when fate closes a door one would be better served to look for an open window rather than bemoan the circumstances of ones life. Personally I have always felt looking for the open window came across as rather trite until my mother’s recent diagnosis.

Twenty-one years ago I was fortunate enough to be one half of a couple that gave birth to a wonderful son. However, the joy of parenthood was not strong enough to sustain the fading embers of an early marriage. When my son was barely a year and a half his mother and I divorced.

Having come from a broken home myself I had grown up with the intention of not repeating the mistakes of my father. Divorce was the first mile that I walked in my father’s shoes. Divorce though is fairly common and I did not beat myself up much over the outcome of my marriage. My vow as it were was directed at being a better father to my son than my father was to me.

As my son grew we spent every other weekend together. We took trips to Disneyland and the movie theater walks through the park and wrestling in the front yard. My son was growing into a person and my lover for him knew no bounds. However, my relationship with his mother had gone from frosty to full scale blizzard. When we spoke on the phone her sarcasm dripped heavily and my patience wore thin. All the stress began to take a toll on my relationship with my son.

A trap loomed before me and I walked into it without blinking an eye. My frustration level became so great that my phone calls to his house grew further and further apart. My visits became less frequent and my actions began to resemble those of my father on every level. By the time he was eleven we had no relationship at all and my transformation was complete. I had become everything I vowed I was not except unlike my father I could not blame my fall on alcoholism I was a poor excuse for a father.

Years passed and the bridges of opportunity slowly disappeared. I had neither the strength nor the courage to rebuild that which I had destroyed. In the intervening years I only saw my son once, at the funeral of his great-grandmother. We spoke but for a moment and than he was gone.

A few years ago one of my cousins saw him working at Disneyland’s California Adventure. Since that day I had visited the park several times and I always kept my eyes open hoping that fate would allow me to “accidentally” come across him. I never saw him though, and the staff could not give out any personal information so another door that was slightly ajar was closed.

Not to long before my mom was diagnosed I came across an old friend who was now working for Disney. They were able to confirm that he was still employed there but nothing else. Asking my friend to violate and rules of employment was not proper no matter how badly I wanted to see my son.

Fast forward to my mother’s diagnosis. I was worried that my son would not have the opportunity to spend some time with her before things got bad. Even if he wanted nothing to do with me I wanted to at least give him a choice when it came to seeing his grandmother. I asked my friend at Disney whether it would be possible for them to pass a message along to him without breaking any company policies.

I waited on pins and needles for a reply. Finally I received word that he was interested in contacting me but had no contact information. I forwarded my information to him through my friend and a few days later he wrote to me.

He was interested in not only seeing his grandmother but exploring the possibility of rebuilding some sort of relationship between us. Over the next week or so we exchanged daily emails. He had quite a few painful questions for me about what happened. Has difficult as it was I did not sugar coat my actions and I apologized for what a lousy dad I had turned out to be.

We arranged to meet for lunch and ended up spending seven hours catching up. While I still found it hard to believe he was willing to give me a second chance. I am not sure what I have done to deserve a son with such a forgiving heart but he is trying to forgive me and I am trying to earn his trust.

It is at this point that my path has diverted from that of my fathers. I recently turned forty-five which was my fathers age when he passed away. Unlike my father I was given a second chance, a second chance that I plan to make the most of.