I read this William Leith piece on Sunday, with Max sitting next to me. It’s about being a single parent.
At first I thought, how lucky I am to have my son sitting next to me whilst I read this. As I read more those thoughts of luck turned to sadness.
It’s not often I allow myself to feel sad about being a single dad. I can’t. Parents are constantly told to put the childs feelings first in everything they do. So, I do. Most of the time, when my son is not around, I walk round my family house, the house full of his stuff, and try to ignore the stuff that is so important to Max. His bedroom is like a void in my house, sometimes used as a laundry room, mostly avoided. Because when he is not here this house is just my house, I am not a single parent, I’m just me. Me is good, but it’s kinda missing something a lot of the time.
