Can the Light Come Through the Cracks?

The story of my life and my pursuit of understanding

Photo by Joe Gardner on Unsplash.

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Author’s note: If you follow me on Substack, you will note that I write in a wide lane.

The lane that has my heart is a fictional series that begins with “Alfred’s Journey to Be Liked” and proceeds to “Hannah’s Journal to Be Happy.” The next book in the series will be about Alfred’s mom, Ellie, and her somewhat dark and lonely life. Ellie has worked hard to improve her life and feel more connected to others, but there are still many moments she has not confronted. Ellie is smart, earnest, a single mom, and an instinctive parent.

Alfred has led her to realize that it’s time to face the cracks in her complicated journey.

Her story starts here, and I will be testing certain chunks over the months ahead to see reader response.

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It didn’t take much for me to realize that I have spent most of my life thinking about “others.” “Others” are those who I thought needed help and felt compelled to serve. I forgot that I could use some help, too. I should have occasionally been thinking of me.

Yes, me. It feels so strange to write that.

Because, all my life, I’ve been thinking about my parents — my mom, who shouldered the burden of raising me; my dad, who died too soon in my life and was not well-matched to my mother for most of their marriage; my son, Alfred, who has much of my personality and inclination which is complicated to manage, and then, David.

I need to name David, who has sort of been like Voldemort — “he who shall not be named,” except that unlike Voldemort, he represented all that was good and hopeful in life. He made me happy. He was smart and kind and loved dogs. And he loved me.

Three years ago, I made one very smart decision and asked Alfred to see “Coach,” who could help him build a “circle of friends.” I wanted better for Alfred than what I had as a young teen. I called it “building a circle” because Alfred and I both love math, so “circle” might sound more appealing. 

Alfred did not see the reason for Coach or for a circle, but he knew it was important to me. And so, he agreed to a one-digit number of sessions. Unless you’ve read Alfred’s Journey to Be Liked, you might not appreciate that Alfred is “all things math.” When he told me “one-digit,” I understood Alfred was saying nine sessions or less.

Ok, I thought. Nine’s not enough, but it’s better than zero. I had found a man who was quiet in demeanor and had worked with kids. My instincts were strong. “You’ve got your man,” I said to myself. I would soon discover I hit the jackpot when I brought Coach into Alfred’s life.

The one-digit number of sessions turned out to be more because Alfred liked his time with Coach. Alfred and Coach met weekly for the whole school year. The following year, Alfred chose to see Coach every other week because Alfred was simply too busy. 

This new reality of “busy” was courtesy of Coach, who had helped Alfred understand the language of building friendships. Coach used humor, humility, generosity, and self-confidence as his tools. We called Alfred a “5-tool player” because Alfred loves baseball and could be proud to discover he had his own 5 tools. Those tools led Alfred to his new friends, Hannah and Joey. 

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All was good, and then one night, Alfred knocked gently on my bedroom door and wanted to talk. When I think back to that moment, I almost chuckle. Alfred wanted to plant a seed — the same seed I had planted two years ago.

“Mom, I am going to be off to college before you know it. I was thinking that it wouldn’t be a bad idea for you to find someone like Coach to talk to.”

Quiet…and then more quiet. Alfred and I are both comfortable with quiet.

Finally, “Alfred, it’s interesting that you say that. Do you think I’m not doing well?”

“I asked you that same question two years ago when you wanted me to see Coach. I said I was fine, and you agreed and then added, ‘But you could be doing better.”

Quiet…again.

“That’s what I think here. You are fine, even great, but you could be doing better.”

I told Alfred I would think about it. He nodded and told me he’d make me some Soho Globs, and we could walk Nellie together.”

“Globs and dogs are how I see my world clearest. You might want to try it.”

Another chuckle…Alfred had me thinking.

I started to think about all the people I’ve cared for. There was my mom, who had two very tough battles, and Alfred, who needed to understand that playing chess with me and eating Soho Globs while watching Naruto did not constitute a life.

I thought about David and the extreme loss that I had buried for too many years. Why had I kept the secret from Alfred? And there were David’s poor parents, who buried a son… parents I never met. They have no idea they have this wonderful grandson.

I thought about my house, which would soon feel empty. Alfred will come back, but he’ll be like a fledgling taking off to discover his world. It’s as I hoped would happen. He will be drawn by the gravitational pull of his circle of friends. He will miss me and do repeated check-ins, but he will be integrating a much larger landscape of which I am a part.

I could still hear Alfred’s words:

“You are fine. You are even great, but you could be better.”

Alfred was right. I could be better.

There had been a crack in my world. Actually, many cracks, if I am honest. It was time to do the hard work and understand how they got there. That is how I could finally let the light in.

Finding the light would be my gift to me and Alfred, and maybe, at some point, David’s parents.

Okay. I was off to find a coach who could help anchor me. I did it once for Alfred. I can do it again for me.  I’ll start with the Coach of all coaches and see where that takes me.

Batter’ up!