Regular readers know that I have struggled with my son’s relationship with his girlfriend.
Twenty and Twenty One seems far too young to be thinking about forever. I know that there are couples who speak of 60 year marriages because they met young in life, and maybe I am jaded beyond recognition but I am just not a believer.
I am emotionally psyching myself up for this summer. GF is moving in with us for the summer for the meager fee of $25 per week.
She returns this weekend from visiting her family out of state. He just returned from their home. They love him, and welcome him with open arms, and apparently, her open bed.
Chatting with my son while waiting for his luggage to come around the bag claim, we made conversation.
I have set pretty clear rules in my home regarding the sleeping situation. I have put him in his room, and her downstairs in Mom’s room. The one night that she stayed here, I found that they ended up in the same bed anyway. My daughter never saw… I never said a word.
As the bags spin round and round, black, black, black… red with a hankie tied, black, leopard, black… I asked him where he sleeps when he visits her family. The answer almost sent me spinning like the bags…. black… black… Virginia with her Ativan…
My son stated that her father said to him, that as long as “he respects his daughter, they may stay in the same room”.
When my seemingly confused expression was noticed, he said the words to me that I have not stopped thinking about for the last two weeks: “Mom, it’s not about the sex. I love her. We have been sleeping side by side for two years now. I need her with me.”
Saddened at the loss of my son’s youth… raging with mixed and conflicting thoughts about the beauty of what he said, I was also filled with the jealous feelings that I have never experienced what he described.
So, the tattered Ernie doll that filled his arms has been relegated to the drawer.
So, my brain hurts. My heart hurts. I am happy for him; I am sad for me.
Jealousy is such a harmful feeling. It is pervasive. How can I be jealous of my own son? I love him. I even like her, for the most part. I am tasked with the motherly job of seeing past my own feelings and responding based on what is best for him. He isn’t asking though. I welcome her. I see love there, I really do. My feelings are my own, and I have to deal with them.
Maybe it is luck; they were in the right place at the right time. The pot has met its cover. I am to remain coverless. There I go again. This is not about me. This is about my son and my hopes for him.
I hope that he is one of the rare few who has found everlasting love. I pray that I can spare him the heart-ache that couples face when they lose love. I support his decisions, and I feel lucky to be a part of their new life as they plan their future together. I will hold my tongue when necessary because everyone has the right to make their own decisions and learn from them. I hope that he has learned from my experiences. His goal, he says “is to never allow her to be treated the way you have been treated”.
He has been listening.
Maybe now it’s my turn to watch and listen. I might even learn something.