This is an essay that no father wants to write.
Last Friday was my third son’s 34th birthday, one of the happier days of my life.
Tomorrow will mark the anniversary of my oldest son’s birth, months after his mother left our marriage.
Any parent would be thrilled to celebrate the birthdays of two of his children less than a week apart.
But not so much.
I have not seen, or heard from, either one for years.
I called A.J. last Friday. Predictably, he did not answer. Hasn’t for years. Last time we had a dinner date in Fox Hills, he was a no-show.
I catch up with Roderick – more accurately my granddaughter – on Facebook, where she is very active. So is her mother. I will wish Roderick happy birthday via Facebook. There probably will not be a response.
If A.J. is on Facebook, I can’t find him.
There isn’t anything else to say. Just regrets.