Too Tired To Think of a Title

SWEET MOTHER OF GOD WHAT HIT ME?
What in the hell am I thinking doing this kind of work? If I die of heat prostration who will raise Al? That's right, "He who shant be named" will raise Al. Oh hell. Can't quit, must continue...The pain jesus, the pain!
Oh all right, it's not that bad, but my arms are sore. I don't actually mind manual labor, because it basically leaves my mind free and I'm not behind a desk in some politically charged "man's" office, watching the clock tick. I'll do this as long as my back holds, and then, well I don't know, I'm not there yet. Be where my feet are. God that's stupid, "Be where your feet are." Where in the hell else would I be? Over simplificating is as deadly to me as complicating. Simplificating, that's not even a word. Over simplification.

Tomorrow is "Mud Day" at Chalice Camp.
First of all, Unitarians don't have any dogma or doctrine. We have Creedo's, and we start early encouraging children to find what works best for them while honoring all paths as sacred.
The Chalice is as close to a cross as you'll get, and it's not close at all. Everything is SYMBOLIC of something else, or something. I'm still confused honestly, maybe I should have participated more this year in the adult religious education classes, but I had a resentment. I get those a lot.
So Al comes bounding toward me this evening (please don't let him jump on me) all excited about the "Chalice" he made out of clay at camp today. He is guilt free and not afraid to question authority figures in regards to their source of information. He is at camp with the two little boys of the man who defended his father in his parental rights termination trial for his sister, and he doesn't know it. Doesn't know how hard these boy's dad fought to save his dad for him. Had Al's dad have fought one tenth as hard as his attorney did...
Last night as Al and I were pulling weeds out of our our little herb garden, I told him his dad had called and left a couple of messages asking how camp was going. No response. So I broke down (I know, I know) and suggested he give him a call.
"Nope."
"Are you sure honey, because you haven't talked to..."
"Nope."
(He's openly pissed off now. And I thought it was because I had to stop the organic diet since we lost our food stamps.)
I decided to risk a direct question and ask him exactly why he is so angry at his dad, and this was his response:
"Because he told me he would take care of me and he hasn't."
Of course this set off a battery of questions in my head, like "Recently?" "When?" "Are you sure that's what he said, maybe you misunderstood him?" etc. But what came out was "I'm sorry sweetheart, I'm sorry you are hurting." How lame is that? Couldn't I come up with somehing better than "I'm sorry you are HURTING?"
He wouldn't say anything more, just that he didn't want to talk about his dad. (Can't blame him)
I started to wonder if this is something Al remembers his dad saying a long time ago, when he was living with his dad, because god knows the man never told ME he would take care of Al. It was just the opposite. All I know is his hurt is real and deep and I'm unable (not unwilling) to fix it.