September 14th, 2026
His pickup truck was parked in the driveway across the street from our house. The young man goes to that place occasionally because the parents of his girlfriend/fiancée live there. He never comes here. He hasn’t set foot in our house for fifteen months. I don’t see him coming here again any time soon.
We had a bitter dispute last summer. At the end of it, he cut all ties with me. He made every effort to cut me out of his life. I tried to apologize to him in a letter and explain to him that I am open to renewing our relationship. He hasn’t responded. He won’t.
I saw his truck when I went to the street to pick up our mail. I was tempted to walk over to him and ask how he was. I didn’t. I am not brave enough to face his rage again. His last words to me were in a text. He said, “Burn in hell!”. That’s sounded rather final.
I admire the young man. I admire his strength and his courage and his generosity and his intelligence. But he is an angry young man. I was an angry young man, but now I’m old and, most of the time, not so angry. He has good reasons to be irate with me. I get that. He has trauma and he blocks people in order to block his pain. I have done that too. It’s not a good long-term strategy. A person who shuns others often ends up pretty damn lonely.
I’m not mad at him. I’m just sad. I think he made the right decision to cut ties with me. He has his own issues, and he needs to work them out on his own. I can’t help him. In fact, I am sure that I would be an obstacle to him. I want him to heal and be at peace. I want him to have a good life, and if that can only happen in my absence, then so be it.
When I got the mail, the young man was turned away from me. I only saw his back. He was just across the street, but he might as well have been a million miles away.
Frank is Emptiness 