The Cabin of Reconciliation

Relationships in families change all the time, but they can sometimes change dramatically after the death of a loved one. Some relationships become very close, while some drift apart. Sometimes, the changes are obvious, and other times they are not. 

On June 2, 2009, I received notification that one of my sons, Jon Wesley Ganues, Jr., died by suicide while serving in the U.S. Air Force. He was a security policeman stationed at Moody Air Force Base in Valdosta, Georgia. His death changed the lives of our family and his friends forever in so many ways. 

Years after Wesley’s death, my relationship with my younger son, RaShawn, was distant. It was cordial, but distant. An opportunity to attend a TAPS Men’s Retreat in Montana in 2017 gave us a chance to spend time together. We ended up in a cabin by ourselves, something I had hoped for. As the event progressed, we had a good time together and talked about many things. However, there was still an elephant in the room, and we had not addressed it.

Addressing the Elephant in the Cabin 

One afternoon, everyone had downtime prior to reconvening as a group. RaShawn and I made our way back to our cabin to relax and get warm. We used that time alone in our cabin to address things that stood in the way of our relationship. I realized how crucial it was for us to have this moment in a neutral location. We had things to work through to erode the distance between us as father and son. 

I was terrified before he spoke, unaware of what would be said or how I would respond. I hadn’t felt terror like that before, and I had thoughts of losing him forever swirling in my head. There was tension in the air as we started to tear into this package of the unknown. 

RaShawn very calmly, but passionately, told me how he felt before and after Wesley died. He spoke of feeling abandoned when I remarried with stepchildren and moved away to Florida with my new family. This made me think back to my wedding day, with RaShawn and Wesley present, not knowing the pain and anguish he was experiencing. Guilt overwhelmed me, and I felt sick inside. 

I certainly didn’t spend as much time with the boys as I did when I lived 100 miles away, and that was my shortcoming as a father. I didn’t love or care for them any less, but I saw how he felt I had moved on. Before Wesley died, we moved back to Virginia, and I was again within 100 miles of where they lived. I know now that I did not visit them as much as I should have, but I thought we all had a good relationship.

After Wesley died, our world was turned upside down, and I took on roles I felt were necessary to get through it. This resulted in me shutting down my emotions so I could “take care” of things. Although I did eventually let my emotions out so I could grieve, my focus was not necessarily on the things that really mattered. RaShawn mattered, and I lost sight of his emotional and fatherly needs. I was focused on who I lost and not who I had. 

RaShawn’s unleashing on me was open, honest, and, at the same time, inspiring. It was in no way disrespectful, but it was direct. He had become the man that I had hoped he would, even with me as a not-so-great example. It was weird feeling proud of him while he outlined my shortcomings, but I felt pride listening to this young man articulate himself. 

I sat there and took it all in, reflecting on the past years, humbled. I couldn’t and didn’t try to dispute what RaShawn told me, it was his truth. We were emotional throughout this, each allowing tears to flow as needed. I responded to him after he finished, starting off by acknowledging how he felt. I made sincere apologies for the issues he raised and my role in all of them. It is not always easy to admit when you are wrong or have wronged someone, but I felt a sense of relief and peace responding to him, taking responsibility for my role. I had very few things to bring up, except asking why he didn’t call me out on some of the things earlier in our relationship. It was a “had I known” moment for me, but also an “I should have known” moment. 

The elephant in the room vanished very quickly, and I believe we both felt we were at a place where we could move forward in our relationship. This was extremely difficult, but we both needed that time in that cabin to regrow our relationship. 

Stepping Out Onto a New Path 

As RaShawn and I stepped out of that cabin, we started on a new path. Our reconciliation in that cabin was scary, amazing, uplifting, and life-changing for us. Today, we communicate at least five times a week, and I am grateful we took the time in that cabin to work things out. He is an amazing father to his son, and I am proud of how he is setting examples for him to follow. I have been taking notes. 

Recognizing how each person is affected and having frank conversations early on can go a long way in heading off relationship issues, some of which can tear those relationships apart.

Jon W. Ganues is the Manager, TAPS Men's Program and the surviving father of A1C Jon Wesley Ganues, Jr., U.S. Air Force

Photos: Jon Ganues