Kerry

We got up and dressed, and I started cooking dinner, while Kerry turned on the television. He found a baseball game just starting between two of the area's minor league teams, the Titans and the Peregrines. He was really getting into the game, but I had a hard time figuring out which team he was cheering for. I finally asked him.

"I don't really care who wins," he said matter-of-factly. "But when somebody makes a really good play, I get excited. That's half the fun of watching the game."

"Yeah," I said. 

I thought about my years of umpiring youth-league baseball, which I still did during the spring and summer. Whenever I could (which wasn't that often, since I couldn't be accused of any kind of favoritism), after the game I congratulated a player who had played an especially good game or made a good play for someone his age. Some of my most prized memories were the smiles I got from the kids when an umpire, whom they had been taught to respect, showed respect and appreciation for them. But I couldn't count the number of times a kid would make a terrific play, but half the fans either wouldn't cheer at all, or would actually boo him because they were for the other team. I had seen the hopelessness in the faces of the kids, and I had seen the tears. Why couldn't people realize that these were just kids? Sure, they wanted to win, but what they needed more than anything else was encouragement. After all, twenty years from now, no one would remember who won the game, but the kids would always remember the fun they had playing - or the heartache they suffered because of some thoughtless fans. They needed to feel that the fans appreciated their contribution to their team. They needed to be acknowledged, and they needed to be supported. Instead, half the time they were booed. I felt myself getting angry about it even now.

Yet here was Kerry, cheering for players on the TV - a ten-year-old boy cheering for grown men who couldn't even hear him. I couldn't help feeling immense pride in my son.

My son.

My precious, beautiful little boy.

God, I was so proud of him! And I loved him so much. I went over to where he was sitting, picked him up and gave him a big hug and a kiss. 

"What was that for?" he asked.

"No reason," I lied. "But it is nice to know that I can do that whenever I want to."

He grabbed the back of my head with both hands and pulled my lips to his, kissing me full on the mouth. "So can I," he said. "Do you suppose real fathers and sons do this as much as we do?"

"I don't know," I answered, "but if they don't, they should. They don't know what they're missing."

Kerry laughed and kissed me again. I put him back in his chair and resumed making dinner. When it was ready, I called him to the table.

"Is it all right if I eat in the living room? I want to watch the game."

"No, Kerry. I have always had a rule in my house. We eat at the table and we sleep in the beds. You notice there are no TV trays, and there are no pillows on the living room sofa so you can lie down on it comfortably? That's because the living room is not meant to be a dining room or a bedroom. The game will still be on when you finish dinner. If you want to record it, the VCR works, but your dinner is on the table where it belongs."

"Okay."

Kerry turned off the TV and came to the dining room to eat, taking the seat across from me. "Thanks, Dad," he said.

"For what?"

"For making me feel at home." He held his crucifix out in front and looked at it. "My mom had the same rule. You just made me feel close to her again." I noticed the tears beginning to form in his eyes as he slowly replaced the crucifix under his shirt. 

"You loved her, didn't you?" I asked.

"Yes, and I know she loved me. But I wish she had met you instead of my stepfather."

"I can imagine how you feel, Kerry, but up until five years ago, I wouldn't have been available. I was married then."

"Where's your wife?"

"She was killed five years ago, Kerry. A truck hit her car when she was coming home from visiting her sister. 

"Oh," he said, dropping his eyes. "What was she like?"

"Well, I guess most husbands would think that his wife is the best in the world. That's how it should be. But Mary really was. It got so that both of us knew what the other needed or wanted before anything was said. Whenever either of us needed someone, the other was there. She could always find something beautiful in whatever I said or did. She always knew when something was bothering me, and she knew when to talk it out, and when to leave me alone for a while. I like to think I did the same for her. And I can't begin to tell you how much we loved each other. A man can love a woman that much only once in his lifetime, Kerry. I've known a lot of men who claimed that they loved several wives that much, but I have never seen it, and I have never believed it."

"Your eyes are beginning to water. I can tell that you loved her very much. I wish someone would love me that much."

"Someone does, Kerry. You should know that."

"That's not what I mean. I know you love me. I can feel it whenever I am with you. I mean I wish someone would love me the way you described how it was between you and your wife."

"I know what you mean, Kerry. The love between a man and his wife should be very special. Mary and I had that kind of love. It is unfortunate that some married people never find it. It is unfortunate that a lot of people never find anyone they can love like that. When you get older, I hope you can find someone like that. That's the only way you will ever really know how special that kind of love is. It takes a long time for that kind of love to develop - Mary and I were married for over seventeen years, and it was only about the last ten that we were able to read each other's minds. It was very special, and I miss it to this day. But make no mistake about it, the love between a man and a boy can be just as special - not the same, but just as special. I am only now just beginning to find out how special it can be. It is unfortunate that society can't or won't recognize that fact. Seems to me the world would be a lot better off if society encouraged love wherever it can grow instead of making people keep it in the shadows. Love is light. Love is warmth. It needs to shine as brightly as it can and warm everyone around it. As I told you before, you and I have to keep a good - sized part of our love hidden, at least for now, but you need to know that as far as I am concerned, the love I have for you is just as special and just as precious to me as the love I had, and still have, for Mary. I wish you could have known her, Kerry. I know she would have loved you as much as I do."

I wasn't crying, but I couldn't control the tears in my eyes. Kerry got up and came to my side of the table. He didn't say anything at first, he just put his arms around me and buried his face in my chest. I put my arms around him and held him like that for several minutes, and noticed he was quietly sobbing, as I am sure I was, too. Finally, he broke our embrace and looked at me in his special way. Through his tears, he asked, "Dad, am I really that special to you?"

I held him even tighter. "Don't ever doubt that you are, Kerry. I can't begin to tell you how special you are or how deeply I love you. I have known you less than two days now, but I can't imagine what I would do if you had to leave me now." I drew him back to me and gave him a kiss on his forehead.

"I love you so much, Dad," he said, still holding on to me. "You know, you have a way of making me feel special, so I know you would be a great father, and your wife sounds so nice, too. Why didn't you and your wife have any children?"

"We did - but not with each other. I have two adopted sons, and she had a son from a previous marriage, but we never had any kids of our own. Both of us wanted them, but it just wasn't to be."

"Is this where you lived - here, in this house, when you were married?"

"No. I had to sell our house after she died - there were just too many memories in it for me, and I couldn't bear to be in it. I got a sizeable settlement from the trucking company because of the accident, and with that along with our savings, her life insurance, my retirement, some good investments, and the sale of the house and my business I was able to buy this house and still have a sizeable amount in the bank. About the only things that I brought over from the old house are the organ, the piano, and some heirloom pieces of furniture. Everything else is almost new."

"So you are retired? You really don't look that old."

"Thank you. Yes, I am 58 years old, and I am retired. I owned a medical supply company, but after I lost Mary, I just couldn't make myself run it any more. I sold it to a major company soon afterward, and retired. I had been a church organist for a number of years and really enjoyed it, so I kept that job, and shortly afterward the Director of Music position came open. I took it and remained as organist, so it became a full-time position. I'll keep that job as long as they will have me, but I really don't need the money from it - at least not now. I still have quite a bit of money coming in from some of my investments - as a matter of fact, I made over twelve million dollars just last week. And I have enough in the bank already to enjoy the rest of my life, and take care of you as well, and still leave my sons - and you - a fairly large inheritance. But I will spend every last dime I have if I need to just to keep you with me. That is, if you still want to live with a retiree."

"Oh, Dad, quit teasing me. I know how lucky I am to have found you, and I am not going to let anyone take me away from you, or you away from me. That is, if you still want to live with a poor little boy."

"You quit teasing me. You are not a poor little boy, you are my beautiful little angel, and I am so lucky to have found you." I kissed him and held him again, and he returned my affections. "But you know what? We have sat here talking, and I'll bet our food is cold."

Kerry laughed out loud. "Then why did you talk so long?"

"Because you asked so many questions," I answered, grabbing him and tickling him in the ribs and chest. 

The food was not that cold after all. We continued our conversation through dinner, but it wasn't as deep as before. I found out that he loved baseball and had wanted to play for a local recreation league team this past summer, but his stepfather would not allow it, claiming that he didn't want to have to do any of the parents' tasks the league required. His mother, before she died, had taken him to church regularly with her, but his stepfather never went, so he had not been to church since his mom died. He had a dog for a pet when he was five years old, but he had to get rid of it when his mom got married - his stepfather did not like dogs. He had played the lead role in his school play the previous year, but his parents did not see the play - his mom was in the hospital, where she eventually died, and his stepfather didn't feel like coming. His best friend, Larry, lived two doors down from his stepfather's house, and they were in the same class at his school the previous year. It had been Larry who had suggested that they take their clothes off and play with each other when Kerry's stepfather had found them and made him leave the house. The only sad thing Kerry said during dinner was about Larry. "I wonder what happened to him," he had said. "I'll probably never see him again." All this information came out in just idle chatter between us, not as any deep conversation, but it gave me a better perspective on what Kerry's life had been like, and what he had been missing. Most of all, it was obvious that he had been missing the love of a man in his life, a father figure.

Hopefully, I could change that, and hopefully, real soon.