Monday, June 23, 2008
My son was born in the Fall. As most children, he was an inquisitve little being. A daredevil to say the least. He was a lot like his mother.
Unfortune events tossed us into the "Single mom, only son" world. Back in the late eighties there were not too many families that we knew in our situation. Not yet anyway. We seemed like the first ones ever, so I did what I could to make life as normal as possible.
As the next few years passed, slowly but surely (just a step behind us) parents were divorcing and his friends learned to except this change in their young lives the way Robby had been doing already. The difference? His father was an alcoholic and an addict. He did not see him too much, but when he did it was turmoil for me. Never knowing if my son was safe..
He seemed to handle these things the best a kid could handle them. I tried hard to keep him sheltered from knowing just how bad his father was. When he asked the questions about his father I tried to stay away from any conversations that might hurt him more.
I always wondered if my son would be threatened with the possibility of becoming an addict like his dad. I would not allow it though. He was not being raised around it. I had told him of the dangers and kids were a lot more educated these days. But I did not understand well enough that all the love and stability that I offered would not be enough. The casual lectures about staying away from drugs and why, were not enough. The D.A.R.E program that his school offered was not enough.
Robby was a daredevil yes, but he was also the most loving kid you would ever want to meet. He was curtious and pleasant. He was helpful and concientious. His room, was immaculate in his early tween to teen years. Everything in it's place. He would tell me regularly "You need to clean your room mom" He loved me and hated to see me cry. He was full of belly laughs and had a zest for life and what it had to offer. His ornery side was a charming as the day is long. When he questioned something, his little eyebrow would go up and down without effort. He charmed the pants off everyone who knew him and the best thing was that he had no knowlegde of these talents.
Not much would bring him down. Mostly just when he was not allowed to 'play' for whatever reason.
He plowed into life and rarely looked up. He did not care what he ran into. If he bumped into some kind of obstacle, he handled it based on the mood he was in at the moment. Nothing upset him too much or for too long. Nothing stopped him, nothing scared him. Nothing seemed too hard to overcome. His many dreams included wanting to be in the Marines or be a Cop or Pro Football player
He played football, baseball, wrestled and was on the swim team. Although he never set the report cards on fire, his grades were good. He made honor roll once and his teachers all loved him for the most part.
He worked part time jobs after school and would soon be driving. Were did the time go!
He continued to hang out with his childhood friends, but as summer came and went, I noticed a change. I noticed different friends. The old ones were not around as much. I chalked this up to maturity. Most of his old friends were younger by a year or so. The new boys he met seemed to be very mature, very helpful. Seasons change..... things change.....
By eleventh grade the signs were there. The struggle, the mouth, the pissy attitude...He did not want to work. He wrecked his car. He dumped his nice girlfriend. I was in the school weekly. Counselors, teacher meetings, detentions, and suspensions. What the hell was going on!
His senior year was agonizing. Three months before graduation, Robby dropped out.