A blog about the Dad/son gay fetish lifestyle.
I remember you: a memory of loss.
I write a version of for coming out day every year, I tell it a different way each time but the truth is in each one. This is the story of a boy and a Daddy.
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“Daddy I can’t sleep. Can you talk to me until I fall asleep. you’re voice makes me feel safe.”
What the hell could I say? No? What kind of Daddy would I be if I let that happen when I could change it just by talking until you slept. Camera’s on, two nightlights in different parts of the world making a conduit so you could see my smile as we talked about the weather. I talked and talked even when I started to cry because I could see you’d been crying. You tried to hide it, but that wouldn’t be possible from me. The red around your eyes, the way you couldn’t smile. I wanted to punch my hand through the glass and pull you through into my arms. I fucking couldn’t. I’m only Daddy no matter how much I needed to be more hearing you sob quietly as you turned to bury your face in that pillow so far away.
There was nothing I could do. All I could do was talk, be as gentle and warm as I could to try to drive away the demons. You wouldn’t tell me what happened or why you’d been crying so much before you called me that night. I have never broken so completely, my heart, my soul my mind and my body everything was shattered to see you like that.
There were still miles to go before morning and I wasn’t going to leave you until the sun rose and you were no longer in the dark or crying quietly as you tried to sleep. On and on it went until you started to get the heavy eyes that come before falling asleep. You whispered into the dark what we did anytime we were talking and about to fall asleep.
At last you’d begun to fall asleep as if saying our nightly ritual was enough to help you finally let go of your burden. I talked more still but I could still hear quiet sobs in your half sleep, like some dream was torturing you still. I don’t know why I’d never done it before, but I started to sing quietly because I couldn’t think of any other way to stop you crying in your sleep. Something in the words or the sound of my voice made you curl up a little and relax. I sang and talked and did anything I could think of until I finally heard the crying stop and at last be replaced with those little happy noises you made when I talked you to sleep. You didn’t toss and turn anymore and had a gentle smile on your face as you rolled over to face the phone. You were so tired that you didn’t wake up when the thing crashed off your headboard and onto the bed next to you.
Exhausted I began to fall asleep, my head resting against the phone until somewhere between here and morning one of them ran out of power and the connection was lost. I woke, still exhausted, my throat sore. Plugged the phone in on the nightstand , started the coffee, threw myself into the shower to try to make the day happen even though I didn’t want it to. I thought of how adorable you looked when you’d bounce on your bed talking to me when things were good and even as you drifted off last night the memory of those times made me smile. It was my goal to get you there again.
Phone. I hear it ringing and think to myself, it’s too early for anyone to call so it must be my boy. Sure enough his picture filled the screen telling me I was right.
“Hello there. How are you doing this morning?”
“Who is this?” I’d never heard the voice before and I had to assume it was your mother. She sounded more than a little upset.
“Mrs.XXXXXXXXXXX I presume? I’m XXXXXX, a friend of XXXXX”
“Why does my son have you in his list as ‘daddy’? “ Fuck. This was NOT a conversation I wanted when unprepared.
“It’s a nickname a lot of friends use for me. Like some people call a family friend uncle, many people just call me Daddy”.
“Why was my son on the phone with you at 3 am? “ I really wanted to correct her and tell her that I was on the phone with MY son.
“Everyone who knows me knows they can call me at any time if they need someone to talk to. XXXXX sounded like he was sad about something and didn’t want to talk about it, so we talked for a while and he fell asleep. He was exhausted. I apologize if I kept XXXXX up too late but he was so upset when he called that I couldn’t just tell him to go to bed. It wouldn’t have worked and I didn’t mind. It was late sure but I would rather stay up and talk when someone needs a friendly voice or ear than have to cut it short because I was tired.”
I realized I had begun babbling to put some distance between where this started and where it could be heading quickly. He hadn’t come out to his family, they had no idea because he was terrified they would disown him or worse so he kept it to himself. The tone of her voice changed when she spoke again.
“I’m sorry I don’t know you and shouldn’t assume the worst like that but I had to know. Did he say anything to you about what happened to him when you two were talking last night?”
“To be honest he was upset when he called but didn’t want to talk a whole lot. Mostly wanted to listen and not feel alone I think. I’ve been there enough to know even a small comfort helps.”
“XXXXXXX, I appreciate that, I really do” Her voice was losing composure the more she talked and I began feeling ill. “I should tell you..”
Time stopped. Not one word more. I wouldn’t allow it. I wanted to hang up before she could finish but I couldn’t.
“XXXXXXXX.. he.. he wrote a note..I tried to get him up this morning but even ambulance people couldn’t.. “
I had to quickly put the phone on speaker and mute. There as no way I could speak anymore. Now it was her turn to need someone to talk to. I choked it back and unmuted for a moment.
“Please, start over and tell me from the beginning. I’ll listen and be here as long as you need to talk”. The rest no longer matters. I couldn’t care anymore. I listened, cried every time she let a detail fall between her own sobs. She had no reason to tell me anything, and every right to hang up, but now I was the voice on the other end who’d listen to her.
Details were sketchy, he'd left only in a short note written in a halting hand and clearly dotted with tears. He was a social boy, and liked talking to people online and had to quite a few before meeting me. Someone had gotten it into their head to figure out who he was and put the pieces together. He stalked, no, he hunted my son and took everything from him because he ‘wanted a piece’ of him. It wasn’t last night. It was days ago. We’d spoken since the event and he’d seemed a little distant but that happened occasionally when he had a lot on his mind. I didn’t think anything of it. He was in shock, autopilot and wandering around asleep at the wheel but something changed last night.
There is a place so dark that nothing, not hope or light or love, can reach you. It comes when you give up, when you believe you aren’t worth the effort anymore. It is a terrible, horrible place to be. I know. I’ve been there before. He reached it last night and apparently took far too much of one thing mixed with another and decided to call me. I would rather have been shot over and over ALL over my body than hear those words. I listened to her talk for a few more minutes before her husband called for her to come down stairs. We said goodbye and I hung up not on her, but on the world. I was done listening for a long while. No one had anything to say that I wanted to hear in the deafening silence left by no more “Daddy I love you” at night.
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This story is not entirely fiction, it is in fact almost entirely true. I’ve only changed a few details so it is unrecognizable to anyone who might read it.
if you, or someone you know has experienced sexual violence, please give them (or call yourself) the numbers below. Help them by being there for them, listen, be the shoulder and the ear, and never EVER excuse your inaction by saying “it gets better’ without helping them make it be better. It does, but you have to have support and to work for it every day. You can’t let hope slip through your fingers, cant’ give up on love or yourself because you’re more precious than you can imagine. Sight unseen there is someone out there who is dreaming of someone like you, just as you have been of them.
It is my secret, the life I lost, but it’s in his memory that I tell our story as a warning. You can’t always tell when something is wrong, which is why it’s important to be the right kind of help for someone who may not realize they need it. Be the same friend you already are but if you know something has happened like this, don’t let them go it alone. Teach yourself to find the resources, find clinics that have support groups, help them reconnect to life if you can. If you can’t; then give them the tools and be there to support them as much as you can. Make sure they know they aren’t alone in the night, even if means a late night phone call.
National Suicide Prevention Lifeline: Call 1-800-273-TALK (8255)
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