I had put a rock wall up in the gym we had.  It might have been some sort of personal guilt mixed with fear and excitement for a new place. What I wanted was a place in my home where the boys could be boys and I could still see them, hear them and know exactly where they were. 

When someone close to you dies, it’s as if there becomes a panic around about the people left, especially when they are little, they are yours and they are in your care. As the parent that’s left, there is a compulsion that creates a desire to hold on to them.

The need to keep them close and maybe even try to control them is strong.  Not to be controlling, but to keep them in what seems like safety.  Safety for them and safety for me.  It’s a survival mechanism that is brought out in survivors.

This rock wall I’d envisioned and saved money toward for months, dreaming of what it’d look like and how excited the boys would be to have it in our house.  I dreamed of the hours of climbing we’d do with every dollar I put away to save for its creation.

Soon enough it was no longer a dream, but a reality.  Cause that’s what I do, dream and make it a reality.  Cause I can.  You can too, I hope you realize that.  It was finally done and it was beautiful. The thing is, shortly after we now had the use of it, I noticed a big notch dug out of it on the bottom.

It had a cord coming out of it.  The hole had been covered up with a mat and the mat had now been moved so I now saw the giant hole.  I asked the contractor if he had put that in.  No, he hadn’t.  I didn't think so.  I then asked Rhys.

‘Oh… yeah, I just wanted to have a light behind the wall,’ he mentioned. ‘So I made the hole to put a cord in,’ he continued. 

‘Uhhh…’ I stammered, ‘do you think there is anything wrong with this son?’ 

‘Nope.’

This is where I’m now feeling like a complete failure as a mother.  A child thinking only of himself and what he wants, entitled to do what he wants when he wants, without empathy for how it will affect others. How could he not be more respectful and responsible? 

Now I can better see, from a kid’s perspective, that cutting a hole in the bottom of the finished wood to run an extension cord into the back of the wall so that he could have light on the other side of the wall, all to make it into his secret fortress sounds like a lot of fun and a great idea in the moment… yet. 

That empathy piece, what about everyone else?  If only I could have asked your dad that question before he decided to do what he did.  I didn’t want to lose another man to unawareness, especially not the one I am raising as my son, so we talked about it. 

I asked him to consider where this had come from, that it wasn’t his to alter.  He didn’t build it, he hadn’t paid for it.  I did.  Yes this is our home, for our family and so it was for all of us to use and to enjoy; but not owned by him to have the right to make changes.

I felt violated, but before I got upset, I wanted to teach.  Being upset doesn’t teach, so we talked about this and he agreed to fill in the hole.  My heart still hurt though, because no matter how nice it looked after it was repaired, it’d never look the same.

 There would always be evidence of a once perfect wall dug into haphazardly.  Here was this beautiful wall that had been over a year in the making. It was done, beautiful, full of potential for so many moments of bliss and within weeks of it being finished, it was marred.

Rhys’s excitement led him to make some modifications he thought would be perfect for HIS needs. Next and later, he decided he wanted hand holds on the inside of the wall, so he could have a private climbing wall up and down the back side. 

To my surprise and gratification, he ended up asking if he could put up some climbing rocks on the inside of the wall.  I told him I’d be open to that, but that we’d need to have someone help us put them in.  Maybe I had gotten through to him…