Seeing Through the Cracks

Chapter 2

     It's early October and Jake leaves campus to join us in Toronto for birthday celebrations for his dad. He then comes back to the house for the weekend, his first visit since starting university. He seems happy, and conversations about school are very upbeat.

The next weekend Jake turns eighteen; now officially, on paper, at least, he's an adult. He returns home for his birthday celebrations as well as Thanksgiving dinner. All still seems well. Jake tells us about all of the friends he has made on the first floor of his residence and how they hang out in the hallways with their laptops working on their school assignments and socializing. He bought himself a beanbag chair to take out to the hall and join the other students. This is encouraging and I believe I have nothing to worry about. Jake's managing his first semester very well.

In early November Jake returns home again for grade 12 graduation commencement at his former secondary school. This is an especially sweet celebration as Jake had a setback in grade 9 and then made up for it by completing secondary school in just three years. We are feeling very proud and are happy to have a formal opportunity to celebrate. Jake didn't want to attend, but relented when I expressed to him that the ceremony wasn't just something for him to celebrate; it was for his father and I, as well. His body is visibly shaky and he seems edgy, nervous, and unfocused. I ask him about it once the ceremony is over.

He says, "I'm just really happy and excited. I realized as the graduation ceremony began that I really do have a lot to be proud of, and am glad that you convinced me to come tonight." Those words warmed our hearts and our spirits, and we relaxed more into the evening. It was a tough journey arriving here, not just for Jake but also for our entire family, and we just wanted to bask in the momentary glory.

During the remainder of the first semester there continues to be very little communication from Jake. When there is, it's vague. This is the opposite experience that I had with Nick, who sent me messages regularly and kept me abreast of much of his first year university experiences. I do miss this with Jake, and it bothers me that he doesn't want to share. He had tended to be more private in his adolescence, and I chalk it up to him just being a very different person than his brother. This is his way, and I work to accept it. I hear little from Jake until mid-December when the semester ends and he leaves his residence to come home for Christmas. He and Nick then begin making plans to spend lots of time together. My vision of the holiday break is much different. Nick has been living in the city with his girlfriend's family and commuting to school, his last year of university. I anticipated that Jake and Nick would be home and the house filled with much joy and laughter, as has always been the case. But Nick hasn't seemed himself recently, and there's been a tension in the house when he is home.

I am taken off guard a few days later when Nick decides to confront me with a flurry of complaints, telling me that I am interfering too much in his life, and telling me to back off. It feels shocking and hurtful; it's just not like him to attack in such a way. I get defensive and then I'm called out for that. So, I start listening; it hurts to hear it, but if we are to work through it, I need to give it my full attention. Nick has been a fiercely independent individual, and I have worked hard to give him the room needed to grow, but clearly he's telling me that more separation is required. I recall doing a similar thing to my own mother when I was a teenager, and her reaction was to tell me that there was no validity in anything that I was saying. It only served to drive us further apart. I didn't want that to happen with my son, so I take it all in, and I accept responsibility for much of it. I apologize to Nick. It is vital to our relationship that I see what needs to be acknowledged, what behaviour needs to shift. I assume this is a normal part of a child establishing more autonomy as a young adult, and that this distressing confrontation is necessary for Nick. Even though Nick is clearly angry and frustrated, he also seems to feel some sense of remorse. In the middle of one of his rants he stops to tell me that I'm a good mother and he's had a good childhood. He begins to cry. I can see that this speaking up is tough for him, and obviously it has been seething inside of him for some time. We're both left feeling frazzled and shaken. It feels like a tornado just blasted through the house, shaking up the environment and clearing space for change. We retreat to our private corners of the house and allow the dust to settle.

With Jake's lack of communication of late, I've been guessing at what my next move needs to be and how to approach these next steps of parenting. With Nick, I'm just being told in a flurry of passionate words. He is giving me detailed directions. I'm not sure which I prefer.

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