Not Without You

five

Leo

I nearly have to make a call to my mom in order to figure out where the hell this rock is. However, just as I'm extracting my old-fashioned flip-phone from my pocket and dialling her number, I spot it. It's pretty damn hard to miss due to the misplacements of it; it's big enough for two people to sit on and the stonecrop looks strange when its surrounded by residue from the creek and native Whistler plants.

There's a surreal feeling in my gut as I run my fingers over the rough surface of the rock, as I feel the glossy leaves of the stonecrop. It's strange to think that my parents used to spend their days on this rock, next to the aqua-coloured creek and in the denseness of the forest. Considering some of the stories I've heard about my parents and how reckless they could be as a couple, I don't want to know exactly what they did here. All I need to know is that this place holds significance in the hearts of my parents.

I close my eyes, imagining some of the pictures I've seen of the two of them here, with the forest as the background and slivers of blue sky poking through. I picture a younger version of Mom, her head thrown back in ease and a big, happy smile on her face. I picture my dad, his eyes focused on Mom and a content look on his face as he sits there, his arms wrapped around her. Just like any other memory I try to create for myself, my train of thought is bittersweet. I'm exponentially happy that my parents, who had known each other since they were in diapers, were able to reunite after being separated for seven years. I'm just sad that their happiness was taken from them so quickly.

When I was younger, I didn't think too much about my dad. But now that I'm eighteen, I can't help but wonder what life would have been like had he survived the accident. I open my eyes, glancing around at my surroundings. Maybe my family would have stayed in Whistler rather than moving to New Brunswick. Maybe I'd have a sibling or two. But the biggest thing I tend to wonder is how different I would be as a person. Don't get me wrong — Mom did an exceptional job of raising me as a single mother, with Grandpa's helping hand nearby, but there's always that what if. What if a male role model had lived in the house with us? What if I had been able to meet my Dad?

The questions that will never be answered are endless.

Sighing, I sit down on the edge of the rock, removing the wrinkled paper and my red pen. In the middle of the bucket list, there's a number that says Visit Saint-Sangster Rock again. There's a faded blue checkmark beside the number, so I add another checkmark in red. I don't know when exactly Dad was writing this list, but it must have been when he came back to Whistler to tell Mom how he really felt about her to try and prevent her from getting married to anyone but him. I admire my father for his bravery. Despite the rift that the seven years created between them, he worked his ass off to get her back — and he won. He was persistent and passionate and honest — three traits I consistently strive to nurture.

Men are expected to keep their heads held high and display nothing but masculinity. But what exactly is masculine about hiding how you feel? In my opinion, hiding your emotions is weak. If you're not strong enough to embrace them and display them when need be, you're weak. Today's society has emphasized everyone's perceptions on gender stereotypes, persuading us to fall victim to these categorized qualities. But I refuse to — even if it makes me different, even if it makes people whisper about me. The strength of a man isn't based on his physical qualities, but rather his life skills: the ability to interpret emotions and display them, the ability to treat a woman as an equal, the ability to solve conflict. Physicality may enable a man to win the fight, but definitely not the war.