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Of all things to remain, you remember his birth vividly. It was a quick one, and although you had no comparing material, you still feel it was an easy one too. Like your child wanted to come out as quickly as possible; ready to breathe in fresh air and stretch his arms. His little fingers closed around yours as soon as he was in your arms.
Naming him was a bit of a hassle, as your husband wanted to name him some Italian name. His name will be Florenzi. He can’t have a German one. You wanted his name to mean something though - you wanted to name him after your father Mathias. As always, a compromise.
You called him Matteo. Gift from God, you later realised. God was already on your side then.
The first night home, you didn’t sleep a wink. You stayed next to his little bed, staring, softly brushing your fingers through his hair. He wakes up around five, slowly blinking his eyes open.
Blue. Ocean blue.
Seeing you, he smiles.
--
God found you slowly, and only after Matteo’s arrival. Slowly but surely, Sundays were reserved for a visit to church. First, on your own. But after a while, whenever your husband was off visiting his family in Italy, Matteo came too. For his age, he remained remarkably quiet. Although that shouldn’t surprise you. Matteo turned out to be quite the quiet kind of soul.
Going to church also made you want to pick up music again, so you dusted off the piano in the hall that your father gifted you for your marriage and opened it. You softly petted the keys, creating a soft melody. It didn’t take long before a small Matteo came running from the living room, standing next to you.
He seemed bewitched by the music you played.
When he was ten years old, you signed him up for the youth choir in your church. You have never been so proud to see him up there, in his best suit. Really a gift from God.
That night, you couldn’t stop playing on the piano until your husband screamed and pulled at you to get you to stop.
--
It worsened after Matteo started going to high school. You miss entire months of your memory; at one point Matteo’s sitting next to you learning for his Spanish test in your father’s favourite winter jumper, and the next thing you remember is him leaving for a summer in Italy with his father.
You were left behind. More time for you to talk to God.
--
At age sixteen - with him sitting on your bed - you tell Matteo to stay with his friend Jonas for a while. No, I’ll stay with you. I don’t mind being here. You can’t help but cry and ask him to please go.
You know Matteo can’t deal with the screaming. He crawls up in his bed with his headphones on, trying to calm down his nerves. You’ve seen this happen to him before. You don’t want him to hear any more.
Matteo leaves for a week.
His father leaves for Italy.
--
Matteo never mentions his father again. He stops singing.
--
You don’t sleep but you’re not awake.
--
The only one he really lets in is Jonas. And you’re glad for it; you’re relieved he’s found someone he can talk to and who’s there for him without questions. When he was younger, you had been scared Matteo’s quiet personality would make it difficult for him to form relationships. That combined with the fact that he didn’t have a good representation in your relationship with his father - you didn’t want him to be alone.
Matteo tells you about Jonas sometimes. Very kind, very understanding boy, for his age. Once, just after his father left, Jonas stayed at your house to support Matteo in taking care of you. You’d been crushed to realise that was the reason.
But one night, you managed to get out of bed and have dinner with them at the table. Jonas and Matteo talk about Hanna, Jonas’ girlfriend, for a while when the discussion turns to Matteo’s father. By the minute, Matteo crumbles more and more into himself.
You see the panic in his eyes. Matteo leaves for his room.
Closes the door.
Puts on his headphones.
You’ve seen this before.
--
You cannot live like this much longer. You know you’re scaring him.
Matteo moves out a week after you started your antidepressants.
--
Over the next few weeks, months, you barely see your son. You barely talk to him. It kills you, but you know you have to let him come to you eventually. For now, you focus on establishing a structure to your life. Going to choir yourself.
Matteo calls you one time during his Abi period, and you’ve been praying - praying so dearly - that he’s able to make most of his exams. Studying has never been one of his favourite pastimes. You wondered if that’s why he called; because you hear the nerves. He’s anxious. He hangs up before you can really ask him more.
That night, Matteo texts you - but you only read it in the morning.
David.
It means beloved.
--
One thing Matteo inherited from you is his tendency to need time before formulating a response. It’s what happens to you right now. You’re scared of saying the wrong thing, and how do you adequately respond in the first place?
You want to hold him close, to breathe him in, tell him that he’s never been more loved by you than in that moment. That he’s truly your gift from God.
But you’d scare him away, you know that. He must think God isn’t on his side.
So in the end, you send him this.
You are my sunshine in this world and I love you infinitely. And nothing in the world can change that.
--
After months of texting and phone calls, Matteo shows up to your choir rehearsal. Alone. And you’ve missed him, terribly so.
Seeing the tears form in his eyes, you realise.
He missed you too.
And finally, you get to hold him in your arms. Your beautiful boy.
He leaves within minutes and you worry a little - it didn’t seem good. Matteo texts you later that night; that it’s David and they don’t know where he is.
I just want him to be safe.
Before bed, you pray David comes back.
--
I got him to stay. He’s with me.
--
Unfortunately, meeting David has to be postponed. After their graduation, Matteo leaves for a roadtrip through Europe with David. You’d think you’d freak out as a parent but you find that you’re okay with it. Matteo is a resourceful, steadfast kid and you trust him. He’ll come to you when the time is right. He’s always done so. Every once in a while, he sends you a picture of where they’re staying now.
One night, he sends you a picture of him with David, both of them laying in grass with David kissing his temple. And you see it in his features, in his face and in his shoulders. He’s never looked so relaxed.
He’s never looked so in love.
--
After all those months, you finally have the opportunity to meet the man of your son’s life. David has a sweet soul, you see it from the start. He offers to take your coat and provides you with a drink while Matteo’s cooking his pasta for dinner. You give your son a kiss on the cheek as a hello, not trying to bother him too much so he can focus on the work in front of him. David keeps the conversation going, tells you about his new work that Matteo can’t help but to make fun of - just a little. David fondly rolls his eyes and tells him to focus on the cooking.
Eventually, during dinner, the conversation turns to the future, and one that Matteo is seeing for him. He doesn’t like this conversation, you can see that very clearly. He’s fidgeting - he doesn’t know what he’s going to do, except that he’s going to take a gap year. You try to tell him that he’s always been good with computers or with cooking; so perhaps he should try a course in that direction.
While Matteo and you have gotten closer over the past few months, it doesn’t always go well. You think this is an important conversation to have; to help him set a path for his future - to help him at all, because he’s helped you so much.
But Matteo suddenly leaves the table, angrily throwing his door behind him.
You can’t help but feel guilty.
It’s not your fault, David intervenes. His dad got into contact with him about it too yesterday.
You should’ve known this. Now you’re sitting with your son’s boyfriend with a half eaten plate of pasta, trying to find a way - yet again - to fix this. It’s your responsibility to take care of him.
After five minutes, David gets up and goes up to Matteo’s door, softly knocking on it and asking him if it’s okay for David to go in. It takes a minute for Matteo to respond, always that minute of thinking about it and forming a sentence; but he lets him in.
If anything, you’re glad he’s not shutting people out.
--
Mom?
Yes, love?
Why do you believe in God?
Because he’s always there. He helps me. He forgives me for my mistakes.
Oh. I hope he does that for me too.
--
After ten minutes, he emerges from his room again; David closely walking behind him holding his hand loosely. He apologises, he didn’t mean to get out, he knows he needs to talk about this but it panics him sometimes to think of the future. But he knows he’ll get there. If you could just give me some time. I’ll talk to you about it soon, I promise.
And, because you’re a mother, you can’t help but hug him tightly, enveloping him in your arms and putting your fingers in his hair. You apologise too and tell him you’re always a phone call away. You kiss him again and again all over his face, until he’s laughing again and asking David to save him.
Oh no Matteo! This is your battle, David chuckles, but grabs Matteo’s hand regardless and Matteo pulls himself out of your hold using David’s hand.
You keep laughing. And laughing at his overdramatic overwhelmed face, trying to bury itself in David’s neck who is starting to laugh too.
I’m trying to force him to star in my application film for uni. He’s dramatic enough for it. Matteo keeps poking his side for it. And you realise that this is who Matteo fell for.
A man who seems to understand your son better than most people - who sees the dramatic side to your son; who leaves him to be for a while to process what’s happening; who waits for him to start talking; who delves into his deep blue eyes and pulls him to the surface. A man who adores your son. Cares for your son deeply.
A man who loves your son like you love your son. Without conditions.
A man who your son looks at when he emerges from his neck when he’s finally done laughing and smiles softly at.
And as a mother? That’s all you really want.
Your kid to be loved.