Still Someone’s Son

Ali Chapman - 29 Jul 16

At the back of the church there was no denying the elephant in the room. The solemn looking man sat buried in his own thoughts,  handcuffed to the policeman, he’d just as well of had a neon sign above his head.

Who he was and why he was in that situation became the talking point for the wake. Speculations and judgements thrown carelessly in the mix.

But he’s still his son, and for the grace of god, that could have been mine or yours.

was my mother’s reply to those too focused on the handcuffs to see bigger picture.

And she was right. Who are we to judge what got that man to that point?  Surely until we do, he had every right to be at his father’s funeral, to mourn the loss of the man who’d raised him. What happened during his adult years bared no significance on the childhood they’d shared.

But how far does a father’s or mother’s love extend? Is there a point when you give up on your child?  To disregard all you once had for the misdemeanours acted out once they’d left to go off in the world on their own.

For me, the bond I have with my son’s is an invisible tie which I hope can never be broken. Even at their worst, I try and see the what, why and how they’re acting like that. There’s always a reason, and I will always keep looking for a way to fix it, to fix them and to forgive.

I can’t say right now at what point I will stop doing that. I have a bench mark in my head by which I know I would say “no more.” But until I hit that, which I hope in all my heart I never will, I can’t tell you honestly if I would ever give up, if I will ever stop forgiving.

And back to that man in the church, the focus of all that gossip, he was relieved of his sins that day, as my mother pointed out, until we know the full story,

he was still someone’s son.

Ali Chapman

Coastal living mum to 3 boys and writer at family & lifestyle blog Mum in a Nutshell. Can usually be found under a pile of washing with an iPhone

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