This is a story about when I finally knew I’d been a good mother.
Early in his freshman year of college, our son Andrew made friends with a group that would stick together throughout their four years at GW. One of the guys in the crowd was Chris, a terrific kid with a great sense of humor and a gentle manner. The next year the two of them became roommates, and we saw more and more of Chris. He was a laid-back kind of individual, a good influence on our somewhat hyper son.
In September of senior year, Chris came out to the group. Their reaction surprised him in two ways: First, they said, “Like DUH, Chris.” They’d already known. And second, nothing changed. It wasn’t a factor in their friendship. In fact, a couple of them went along on his first visit to a gay bar, so he wouldn’t be nervous.
Chris’s plan was to tell his parents over Thanksgiving. He was nervous. His friends boosted his courage, promising to be there for him. The week after Thanksgiving break, I asked Andrew, “How’d it go with Chris? How’d his parents take the news?” Andrew hesitated only a second before replying, “Not as well as you would have, Mom.”