Being Bahama

Gone

My hand shook as I read the message over and over trying to understand the words there.

BJ dead.  Thought you should know. No other info to give.    F. L.

Could it really be that my son was gone? 

It’s been nearly 2 years since I last heard from him.  The forced silence was part of what he choose in allowing himself to become wrapped up in that ridiculous religion.  Yes, he choose that… and the danger.  He choose them both with no regard for what it meant for me.

I tried many times to dissuade him from walking that road.  Perhaps I could have if I’d had more time back then, if I wasn’t so caught up in tending to my business, if I’d known what that crazy old neighbor had been filling his head with, if I could have offered him more adventure in his life, if..

If Bermuda had been around more or hadn’t been supportive when he found out what was going on… maybe then things would have been different.

Then again, maybe not.  He was a stubborn child from a very young age.  Smart and strong….

And now gone?

I have no way to confirm the message.  I don’t know who F. L. is or how I would contact them.  BJ warned me long ago that if something happened to him, I shouldn’t expect more than a message if they even managed to send one.  At the time I just let the matter drop.  Why didn’t I tell him that wasn’t good enough?

It’s not good enough.

This lonely despair I feel is only compounded by the fact that I have no one with whom I can share it.  So few people even know I have a son…. 

I had a son.

I packed a bag quickly and left a note on my office door I’d be gone a few days - urgent business.  I turned of my comm and avoided the usual routes so as not to run into anyone I know.  I know I won’t be able to even speak without breaking down. 

A few days at the lake is all I need.   Just a few days to pull myself together.

How can I pull myself together?