I have a 14 year old son. Gulp. I’m old enough to have a 14 year old son. Double gulp.
I’m being slightly silly, of course; of course I’m old enough to have a brilliant, funny, clever son who is 14 years old. Mentally, I still think that I’m about 21 years old, but my body most certainly doesn’t agree with that assessment.
Bryan turned 14 earlier in the week, and it’s been lovely to celebrate this brilliant young man’s special day – I can’t really say “boy” any longer. He got to spend time with family and friends the weekend before and on his actual birthday, and he got presents that he really wanted – he deserved them.
On the day this is published, there’s another important milestone, of course; on 16th March 2019 (six years ago to the day), Bryan Munson came home for the first time. Six YEARS ago. Huh? Did I blink and miss something?
Since we became a family, we’ve lived through social worker visits, a judge’s decision, a global pandemic, home schooling, SATs, moving to secondary school, and getting ready for his first GCSE this year. We’ve seen general elections, the shortest-serving Prime Minister in history, Brexit, a war in Ukraine, and talked about all of those subjects and more with each other. My entire life upended the day he came home, and I have never once regretted the momentous decision to become a dad.
Single fathers are certainly a rare grouping, but once I knew that becoming a parent was the right thing to do, I never looked back. One thing I am not is perfect; I make mis-steps like anyone else, but the relationship I’ve got with my son is one I am very proud of.
He is someone I am immensely proud of; he is a dancer (and got 92% in a ballet exam this week), is fascinated by languages, and is a kind and funny young man. I would not swap the relationship and love we have got for the world.
A relationship takes hard work, no matter the type of relationship it is; the fateful journey taken first by a panel of experts and a specialist decision maker to allow Bryan to be placed into my care was only the start of our journey. The decision – six months later – by a judge to make our family official in the eyes of the law was a joyous, wonderful occasion. But even that wasn’t the end of the story – merely of that particular chapter. It meant the end of social workers, judges, meetings, and a lot else besides, but the beginning of normal family life – whatever normal means to each of us.
I never imagined I’d get the privilege of becoming a parent, but it happened – and I remain thankful every single day that it did. There will be other phases in my life, to be sure; when Bryan becomes an adult and begins exploring his own career, loves, and passions a bit more independently. But I’ll always have the privilege of being his dad, no matter where life takes us both, and I couldn’t ever ask more than that. I will always love my son.
