Pride

I captured a rainbow in my hand and thought of the Pride celebrations I cannot attend in Toronto. I must work this year, but there will be other years to come!

During his teen years, seventeen to be exact, my son revealed to me he was gay. He expected words of hurt and I asked, “Do you want to know what upsets me the most?” He said, “Go ahead.” I said, “I’m a Children’s Aid kid and you are my entire family.” He looked sad but burst out laughing when I added, “So where am I going to get grandchildren?” That was the only thought which entered my mind. How selfish of me, yet how revealing of my acceptance.

A few years later, during a visit to Toronto, my son introduced me to a friend. The man burst into tears learning I was a mom. He said, “My mother won’t have anything to do with me because I’m gay.” My heart sank like a stone.

My question to all the moms like his, “How can you shelter in your womb, diaper change and bottle feed, bandage and kiss-better knees and share the precious photos in your wallets, amongst all the other loving circumstances with your babes to dissolve your love so easily when you learn your children have no attraction to gender opposites?”

© Zora Zebic 2016

 

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