Final Boarding

-by Beau Burriola

"Ladies and gentleman, in a moment we will begin boarding Flight 278 with service to Seattle through Gate C-17…"

We walked through the terminal not speaking to one another. I inherited my stubbornness from you and you're now well practiced, so there was little chance either one of us was going to say a word. Still, as mad at you as I was, I still hoped one of us would budge.

If he's not talking to me, I'm not talking to him.

We weren't ready to have to face one another so soon. For you having a queer son was too much and for me having a parent who couldn't accept me wasn't worth my time, but we set aside our disagreement for the funeral if only for the moment. Now the funeral had passed and we were back to our anger.

Great metal birds came and went in endless procession, reflecting sun, regurgitating people and crossing lives that might never have crossed. All around us strangers said hello and people laughed and smiled, but here at Gate C-17, a father and son didn't say a word to one another.
The first time I ever rode a plane was with you, I wonder if you remember. I was scared to death and your smile and jokes were all that got me through. Sometime in my childhood your jokes got corny and I saw less smiles. It seems like we haven't smiled in years.

"We would like to begin boarding Flight 278 with service to Seattle with our first class passengers and rows 20 and higher."

We both looked out the window at the wide Texas airfield while we waited for my row to be called. What could we say that hadn't been said already? That wouldn't add to the pain we'd already caused? We didn't even look at one another.

If he's not looking at me, I'm not talking at him.

As I looked out over the field, I imagined all the happier families who didn't have to deal with the 'gay' thing. I imagined a time when all that mattered was that I was your son and you were my dad and that was all we needed to be a happy family. I can only imagine what you were thinking about.

"Ladies and gentleman, at this time we would like to board all remaining passengers through gate 17…"

I was angry that after a lifetime of teaching me unconditional love, you would suddenly lock me out. You were angry that after a lifetime of raising a child, he would turn out to be a homosexual. In our anger we didn't speak, didn't talk to one another and were in no mood to offer a hug goodbye.

If he's not going to hug me, I'm not hugging him.

As if in unison we turned from one another- me toward my plane and you toward the exit. I handed the attendant my ticket and just as I passed into the gate I paused for a moment in the silence. I felt something pull at me and I just stood there. One word from you would have been all I needed to turn around—a hug, a smile… something.

"Final boarding for flight 278 with service to Seattle… final boarding…"

In my anger, I stepped through the gate and out of your life. Days passed… months passed… years passed quickly.

Today marks five years since that day and we still won't say a word. I sometimes wonder how many you and I have picked up the phone but didn't dial or only halfway written a letter. I wonder where time is going. I wonder why the anger won't go away. I wonder how many gay sons and their fathers are doing the same thing right now? How many years are being lost? How much time is slipping away? How often will we look back and wish we weren't so stubborn?

If I'm not good enough for him, he's not good enough for me.

..like father like son.

"If the relationship of father to son could really be reduced to biology, the whole world would blaze with the glory of fathers and sons."-James Baldwin, gay author