The reality of Wolf's contact (or lack of) with his natural father is slowly beginning to resonate, and I am now faced with the delicate dance of saying enough but not too much.
Information that would have been discussed and processed much earlier than at 17 1/2, had Wolf been a typical teenager. Information that might be too much for him to process and decipher in a healthy fashion. I can't tell Wolf some things. I can tell him others. It is difficult.
What he really wants, I think, is to be loved by his father in the way most kids are; because no matter how much or how often Yukon says and demonstrates his love in a thousand and one ways to Wolf, Wolf still clings to a distant memory of a dad who took him motorcycle riding, to McDonald's, and to the movies. Oh, and sent him photos of his tour in Afghanistan holding an assault rifle. Lovely.
Like so many impulsive teens with Asperger Syndrome, Wolf sees something he deems as cool and grabs hold with a grip of iron. He lives, eats, and breathes this "coolness" and forgets about the potential risks. The image of his dad is cool right now. And he wants it. He does not feel it.
It is difficult to help Wolf separate the reality of his father from the idea of his father. During the Hour of Power yesterday Wolf asked me at least five times to call his dad and ask why he hadn't contacted him. I told him to write a letter. Therapist B. backed me up.
We are looking forward even more to Wolf's return to Alaska, where he will be busy and working hard, and won't have time to dwell on what makes him despondent. And he will see his family often. I need to remind myself that Wolf has been gone a long time, and he is aching to see familiar faces as much as we are aching to see him.