Alex is sad. He sobs in his sleep, crying out for Daddy and all that he represents. Consistency, the old life, his old friends, his Abuelita and Abuelito. He misses rides in Daddy’s black car that goes vroom vroom and drives fast. He misses crawling into Daddy’s bed in the middle of the night. He even misses McDonald’s.
In the moments when he is hopelessly sad, I desperately want to snuggle him into my lap, hold him close, and lie to him. I want to tell him that everything is going to be okay…That tomorrow the sun will rise on a new day and we’ll be happy again. I want to dry his tears and kiss his face and lie to him.
In the moments when his sadness is expressed as bitterness and anger toward me, I desperately want to grab him by the shoulders and look him in the eyes and tell him the truth. I want to ask him why he idolizes such an ugly man and what that man has given him that I have not. I want to tell him that his Daddy broke my heart and ruined my soul. I want to tell him that the man he worships is violent, lazy, selfish, and ignorant. Mostly, I want to tell him that his Mommy left her best friends, her family, and her job to give her babies a better life and that all she wants is to see him happy.
The truth is, I can’t. I can’t lie to Alex, and I can’t tell him the truth. Every night I hold him and we ask Jesus to help him understand, to help him feel my indescribable love, and to comfort his sorrowful soul.