One of the most amazing gifts I never expected was how you grow as a person as you watch your child become an adult. I get it, we adopted our child at 16 and in some ways that is a big deal . For us though Mike was part of stars, our lives, our path. Even before we knew one another or knew we needed him. And we did need him. As a family, no longer a couple we became more dynamic, more powerful, more cohesive and healthier as a unit and individuals.We pushed each other for the best within our selves, those really gritty parts and those gooey nuggets of love and compassion. When you lose your child you lose that true voice that encourages you to look at things in new ways, expand your thoughts, identify fears and their validity in your life.Those best and most stubborn parts of them illuminate those places in you sometimes hidden, ready for light and review. If you are raising a happy health adult , you too are expanding the fibers of yourself. That push from Michael to see the world without fear and hate, to own your pride, to move in a way of true joy : that is what I will miss the most about my son's approach to life. Eyes wide open, so you never miss a beat.
Each family does it different, for us MIchael's life in care was bleak and limited and without some basic life experiences. I wish to say that is an anomaly but it is the reality of children in care today as a larger group. to "make America great again " lets start with our kids. But we are not. We will reap what we sow from our apathy. So when Mike came into our life we created boundaries that were non negotiable even as a young adult in our home. Be where you say you are, stay put if you cant drive, we fix family issues and hurts and move on no matter how hard, we eat dinner together , cell phones are not more important than people and we get through your schooling and healing as a team.Few more things in there but that was the consistent message. In that parameter, as long as in the boundaries, kiddo could explore life and himself. If it was safe, we wanted him to have as many new experiences as possible. And he shared what he learned about life in those frames. Some of it we agreed with, some not, as a family though we all learned about each other and ourselves.
My sweet child if you knew him had many, many "outfits". From the giraffe onesie , to his button down bow tie, to hip surfer boy with tutu, his looks went from GQ to little boy playing dress up. I think that inner child, little Michael so hurt and so closeted for so long always blossomed in Mike's clothes.Some days he dressed just for fun and he pulled it off . That was Mike , colorful, boisterous, handsome and playful.
As his mom I never had much to say about his clothes. Twice in our life I had discussions about an outfit not as do not wear it but when to wear it. FYI giraffe onesie not really work attire :). But I learned a lot about myself from Michael's clothes. One that I wish I had half the balls my kid did in confidence and the other how I had to let go of my fears about how others reacted to him. 2 years ago Mike came to me asking if he could get a pair of boots: girl boots with heels. Not for clubbing but for school. For as gender equity and non conformist I thought I was about gender , I told him I had to think about it. Yep for everyone who calls me a crazy, liberal, crunchy, bleeding heart either to my face or behind my back,, yep as mom I needed a minute. About 3 days later I told him Ok . He asked me why I need to think about it and here is where the growth in me showed. I really did not care if my son wore black boots with chunky heel , my wife ( now husband) had never worn any female clothes since I had known them. Some boots why a big deal? I had to confront my fear. I grew up in the post Stonewall Riot, Act Up age. I grew up when gay men were dying of AIDs and no one cared but our community .When hate crimes were rampant. And now in our world we are circling back , this protection of our own means fearing the different , new and old hate crimes coming in. I never wanted to be Matthew Shepard's mother, with the image of my dying child pistol whipped on fence because he was gay. I also knew I would never have it in my soul to forgive the way Judy Shepard did, she is more complete in her humanity than I could ever be. Bottom line my fear is girl boots in everyday life could make my son unsafe,
I had to sit back and remember before us, the gay bashing my child endured and how he survived it and now thrived despite the narrow minded bigots thrown in his path . They did not break him or shame him. He became happy,loved and amazing while they stayed unhappy , small minded and petty. Love does win. Also we were very clear having a gay teen : you never ever start trouble . However we were equally clear that if another kid was gonna " hurt the fag ' , you finish it .My kid was strong, very strong and if the lesson was the "fag" wiped the floor with your pathetic ass , we were ok with it. He knew when to be careful and knew that walking with confidence minimized a lot of crap. Why would I deny my kid happiness because of my fear. And I let him get the boots and he loved them and now mom has a kick ass pair of boots I will wear in his memory and smile. Just to be clear fag is not acceptable lingo ever, but I acknowledge when folks try to use this to hurt us and we take that word back with power.
When Mike turned 18, he got serious about the art of drag. If you are not familiar with the art of and legacy of drag through the centuries and the world, do some research. Its fascinating. His 18th birthday after the family party with pizza and friends, he was going out dancing with friends in the lady gaga bubble dress. Much like Scarlett O'hara and Maria in the Sound of Music he stalked craft stores for days buying clear bubble ornaments. Armed with a hot glue gun, he created. And no this is not how I envisioned my son's 18th. But it was so Mike , dancing the night away , in the bubble he created. My kid knew who he was and embraced both his male and female energies without apology , We loved him for it, so many did too. So when he told me he was learning to perform drag , the mom afraid of what others might think about girl boots, had grown some too . I told him be the best drag queen you can . the kind people look at and go "DAMN " as in damn he is fierce not "daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaamn " as in damn that queen looks rough. My kids sport was drag not baseball or football and so drag mama not soccer mama so be it . My son's style of drag is much like Portland's own Darcelle, not to pass but camp , kitsch and fun. He loved entertaining and making folks smile.He loved being the big burly guy with the rad tattoos who could put on a dress and still kill it and draw people in. Proud mom moment he could also drop into death drops and full splits.
In the quiet now of our house , I hurt when I cannot feel the pulsing and electric life source that was my son. I have complete recall of it and memory but the force of it diminished without him. I wonder what lessons we will learn from his death ? How we grow and how the heck am I coming out of this stronger if right now I am shards of glass in a big painful ocean?What lessons will change me with is death that do not involve hurt, loss , tears and anger? The lessons and growth from my son were of expansion and enlightenment, in my loss its hard to not feel like they are now flights of fancy never coming back. My son is/ was Fierce as in DAMN ! fierce. I hope one day he sees me from that other side and knows i am back to fierce and not just rough.
Thank you my child for always being you , never buckling under and knowing the power of your confidence. May that be the gift I figure out how to accept from you.
Dad and I miss you love, everyday
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