All that life offers (Part 1)...

I know I left you all hanging, but it was impossible for me to have the time up until this second to continue the story.

Flash back to last Friday. I spent most of the day feeling nauseous, knowing that in a few short hours my life was about to change yet again. It's a funny feeling, knowing one is about to change the course of their life...so powerful yet so helpless in the same second.

I don't recall most of what happened that day, because really, I accomplished nothing. I was fixated on what was to come, what would happen after we ate dinner as a family surrounding the glass-topped table, after the dishes were tucked away in the washer and my dad had drifted in to sit on the couch.

My mother was equally on pins and needles, giving me the occasional glance as I walked by that seemed to remind me constantly of the gravity of the situation. We didn't really talk about it, save for a few moments where she confirmed that it would be 'tonight'.

At roughly 4 p.m., both parents were leaving the house, bound for different destinations. Outside, mom told dad that I had something to talk about, and that we needed to talk tonight. He retraced his steps, back into the house, calling up stairs to me, who had slunk back to my bedroom.

I came down to him, completely unaware of what was going on. "Come here," he said. "Sit down." We sat on the small bench in the porch, barely enough room for the two of us to fit. I still had no idea what was happening, save the idea he was going to tell me he'd miss me once I went back to school.

"I just really want you to enjoy your last few days at home," he said. "I just want you to enjoy them."

"I...uh...well, of course," I said, "so do I." It would only be 48 hours before I had moved back to Toronto and left home once more, and I understood where he was coming from.

He paused. "I know what you want to talk about," he said. I sat there, confused, and asked just what he meant, since I hadn't said a word about anything.

"Your mom told me just now you needed to talk about something," he said, "and I wanted to let you know I already know what you have to say." There was something in his voice, a naked honesty, that finally made me see the light: he knew.

The room swayed, and I burst into tears.

Everything that I had planned, everything that had been taken into account, simply flew out the window. There we sat on the bench, me clinging to him, sobbing, trying to form words, form a sentence.

"It's ok, it's ok," he said, pulling me to him.

"What do you mean you know?" I asked through sobs.

"I know, I've known for a while," he replied.

"But...how long is a while?" I asked, still gasping for air.

"A long time. A couple years," he said.

So I started to talk, started to try and tell him how awkward life has been, how difficult summer was, knowing that I needed to tell him and not knowing how he would react.

But all the pep talk that I had thought through simply vanished. I didn't know what to say, how to say things. I didn't understand just how much he 'got it' or if he was confused and unsure. So we sat there, with me attempting to get conversation on track.

He really had no questions, which bothered me a little, since my understanding of his gay education was stereotypes and bad TV. So instead I focused on the positives, how happy I am, how I feel more comfortable in my skin and with my life.

"But you gotta admit, it's pretty weird," he said. "It's not really normal."

And so we talked, and I tried to clear things up (gently) about what exactly 'normal' is, and how being different from a majority isn't necessarily weird. I tried equating things to being left handed versus right handed.

With that, we got to the root of his thinking...how he feels like something 'went wrong' somewhere genetically, from whose side of the family the gayness came from.

I still don't really understand just what he's thinking or how he feels. On the one hand, he made it very clear he still loves me, that I'm still his son and that we're still a family. On the other, he still seems to be pretty uncomfortable with the whole situation, not really sure of where he stands..."It's going to take a lot of getting used to," he said. "Two guys...that will take a lot..."

Throughout it all, he did give me a bit of insight into the hidden gays in our community. There have been some before me (no surprise), though I'd never heard of them before. Other farmer's sons who had been gay, and who had come out years and years ago. They all left, of course, but it feels nice knowing that I wasn't exclusively alone in my situation.

Like my mother, he was most concerned about safety, both interior and exterior. He worries that I'll get killed in a straight bar, or that people would hurt me for being gay somewhere, sometime in my life. And he worries about me 'getting sick' (since he couldn't seem to bring himself to use the word HIV) like one of the other farmers sons had. He died, tragically, in Vancouver.

Overall, it was a surreal experience. I had no idea he knew, no inclination that he had known for so long. In many ways, I got my wish after all; I only have to deal with the awkwardness after the coming-out conversation, I didn't have to break the news to him that I'm gay. Even now, looking back, I still don't really know exactly how he feels about the whole thing...I get the feeling he is accepting more because of the love for his son than the true belief that being gay is OK.

And so we've entered a new phase of life. Both my parents know now. I'm out to my family. Now what?

It seems crazy to be thinking about the next step, but I couldn't help but wonder as our conversation wound down just how things would progress. I told him quite clearly that I have no intention of this just becoming a family secret, of it being spoken of once and then never again. But just how much it's discussed, and in which way, is something that we'll have to discover.

And as if there wasn't enough drama on this weekend, Sunday proved to be no slouch...