Watercolour painting of a robed king seated alone and seen from behind in the shadow of a stone gatehouse at dusk, head lowered, a narrow stair climbing past him to a small lit upper window, with a distant treeline beyond the walls.

My Son, My Son

Waiting
Grief & Loss

The king sat between the inner and outer gates while the battle happened somewhere he could not see. A watchman climbed to the roof above the gateway and looked out toward the forest. Everything he ruled was being settled out there. He waited for news about one person.

That morning he had given his commanders their orders in front of the whole army. "Be gentle with the young man Absalom for my sake." All the troops heard the king giving orders about Absalom (2 Samuel 18:5).

Absalom had taken his throne and sent an army after his life. David stood there watching his soldiers file past on their way to fight him, and told them to go easy on the boy.

He was fighting a war his son had started, and he still would not let anyone treat him as an enemy.

If your child has been turned against you, somebody has probably told you by now that your love has turned unhealthy, that at some point you protect yourself and stop reaching. Some of that carries wisdom. Are you allowed to go on loving a child who is doing this to you right now? David answered that in front of an army.

The Question He Kept Asking

The first runner came into view and the watchman called it down. Ahimaaz reached the king and led with the victory. "Praise be to the Lord your God! He has delivered up those who lifted their hands against my lord the king" (2 Samuel 18:28). David let it go past him. "Is the young man Absalom safe?" (2 Samuel 18:29). Ahimaaz did not answer.

The second runner arrived and said the same thing in different words. "The Lord has vindicated you today by delivering you from the hand of all who rose up against you" (2 Samuel 18:31). David asked him the identical question, and the reply came back with the word left out of it. "May the enemies of my lord the king and all who rise up to harm you be like that young man" (2 Samuel 18:32).

Twice they handed him the win, and twice he asked about the boy instead. The army worked out what that meant before it reached the city. "And for the whole army the victory that day was turned into mourning, because on that day the troops heard it said, 'The king is grieving for his son'" (2 Samuel 19:2).

Every parent living through alienation knows why that victory went flat. The court ruling that goes your way. The relative who finally says out loud what has been happening. You take it and feel almost nothing, because it was never the thing you wanted.

The Room Over the Gateway

The king got up and climbed the stairs, weeping as he went. "O my son Absalom! My son, my son Absalom! If only I had died instead of you, O Absalom, my son, my son!" (2 Samuel 18:33).

He said the boy's name five times in one breath. He made no defence of himself and no case for why he deserved better after everything Absalom had done to him. He said the name, and then he said he would rather have died in the boy's place.

He wanted to trade places with the child who had spent years trying to destroy him.

That wish is the truest thing an alienated parent carries, and almost nobody says it out loud because of how it sounds to anyone standing outside it. You would take all of it if the taking would spare him. The accusations, the silence, the version of you he has been handed and has no way of checking.

David got nothing back for the love. The kingdom held. Absalom was buried under a heap of stones in the forest, and no reconciliation came, no letter years later. What was left was a father in an upper room, saying a name that could not reach anybody.

Your love has not stopped either, and it has cost you more than the people watching understand.

You are still the one who says his name.

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