Getting to Canada from the UK in August 2020 was a challenge. There was a lot of stress. I was at my mother's house. She assumed I was being pathetic and insisted on taking over. Within five minutes, she had lost it as well. Emotions were high before I flew. My chance to spend time with my only son was given to me by this holiday.
He is the most significant thing that has ever happened to me. He was an unexpected surprise. I had a short relationship with his mother. I got a call from North Korea, where she was working, one day out of the blue. She was pregnant. She lived in Canada and I was based in England. At the time, we were both medical emergency aid workers, and we had met while responding to a storm. It was always going to be difficult, but we decided to make it work.
She was very generous. It would have been easy for her to not tell me what had happened, but she made every effort to include me. I moved to Toronto and New York as a compromise for much of his early childhood. He lives in Canada with his family. He calls us both Dad, which is sometimes confusing but always lovely. I could be with him in Canada in five hours, while also being close to my home in the UK. I returned to London when he was 10. We would see each other during holidays. I would visit when he came to stay.
It is not the way I would have chosen to be a parent. The way life happened is what it is. I take my responsibility as a father very seriously and I love him the same. I am not always in the room because of our situation. We could have made a dynamic where I was considered a failure as a father. We made sure to mitigate this. I am Dad. He has another dad. Both love him the same, but one is more present.
It is odd how many people are against our type of parent-child relationship. I have had friends tell me that I don't know what it's like to be a parent. Before seeing him last summer, there had been a bigger gap than usual, and I was more defensive about our relationship.
I closed my laptop and wondered what I was doing to him.
I made it to Canada. Normally, I would have a month or more with my son, but we made the most of our two short weeks together. I rented a cottage and my brother and his wife came with me. It was amazing. We were completely isolated once we arrived. We couldn't have visitors. It was a lot of family time. He was taught to play poker. The radio-controlled car was built by us. We talked about the dangers of the internet, plans for the future, and his greatest dreams. It was wonderful.
Many people dislike airports when long-distance relationships are involved. It felt different going there last August. We had a day circled in the calendar where we would see each other again. The dates were firmly in my diary, even though the tickets might not have always been booked. We said farewells and there was no mention of Easter or spring. It was awful to have no end to our separation in sight. He was heading off to be a teenager, and he was going to relive some of his childhood. It was difficult to say goodbye, not knowing when I would see him again.
There was a woman at the airport who had a dog. I broke down as I held onto this poor animal as I balled like a baby. I apologized and the kind woman told me that it happens all the time.
The Christmas of 2020 was a disaster. The greatest tragedy was not mine. I called him on Christmas Eve. We talked for three hours. It was a rare moment where we were both in the right place at the right time, and found ourselves connecting. I closed my laptop lid and crumbled. I felt like I was alone. I wondered what use I should have for him. I thought about my approach to parenting.
I didn't want him to feel that I wasn't present because of a deficiency of love. It would be easy for him to tell himself that if Dad really cared, he would have moved in. Am I just a terrible father? It wouldn't have been the right option. His mother is married to a nice man. I think it was the right decision to try to forge a relationship. He was raised in a loving family with a stable home.
I told him explicitly that I love him. I am there for him. I think about him all the time. These might sound obvious, but they were reinforced regularly. I am excited to spend time with him every time I get off the plane.
Our bond was just as strong despite the fact that he had changed a lot.
There is a temptation to do everything when we are together. It is easy to want to make too many memories. I tried to do that at first. I arranged an endless list of activities for him when he came to London. After a few days, he turned to me and asked if we could just have breakfast. I realized we could just spend time together. If we did normal father-son things, it will be more special.
Ensuring my relatives were in his life was important. I wanted him to see me as part of his family. My parents are related to him. He knows his family. I am not perfect. Picking up the phone to a young boy? I found it hard. He wasn't interested in chitchat because of the time zones. I would call at the same time every night. I know his parents do a lot of work. I will never know all the things I can appreciate. There is a division of labour and joy. I miss special things, big or small, and I am gutted to not be present for them. I felt that last Christmas.
I returned to Canada in August of 2021. I was worried a lot. I prepared myself for a big conversation about the previous festive season when I saw him. To tell him how much I wanted to see him. I hoped it didn't upset him so much. How could I get him?
He looked at me as I brought it up. I saw you at Christmas, he said. The boy had forgotten a lot. It was a relief. I felt sad and guilty, but he had moved on. While he had changed a lot, his bond was still as strong as ever. We had a great month together.
I think it's important to understand how that year apart changed the way I think. For a long time, I wanted my son to think about me. I wrestled with that last Christmas. Now? If he knows I care, and that he is happy, I will not cross his mind until we meet again. I used to worry that I was a redundant dad, but I think that is not true.
I have come to accept that your child will grow up. There is always a limit to the parent's ability to be there. It is useful to have a moment as a parent where you are forced to question what your role is, because you can do so little. It has happened a lot earlier for me. I am a distant dad, but I am here, always cheering for him, because he knows I am here. I can do that anywhere. He needs a lot more. He gets it from two people who do it better than I could. I will find the thought comforting this Christmas.
Xand van Tulleken is in the military. The Lyric Theatre has a live show until 16 January.
As told to Michael Segalov.
