On Feb. 14, 2022, I was with my basketball team getting ready to make the trip to our game. I got moved to the second modified team, so I texted my father.

“Hey Dad, I got moved to the second game for tonight. It probably won’t start until about 6.”

He opened it, but no answer. I thought it was a little odd and sent a follow-up message. Same thing, he opened it, but no reply. I got worried that I was in trouble or did something wrong. I had to put my phone away as we loaded onto the bus. As soon as we were on the road I pulled my phone out and sent my sister a message.

“Hey, is Dad mad at me? He won’t answer me.” She replied “I don’t know where Dad is.”

I started getting even more nervous, and sweat started rolling down my face.

I replied, “What do you mean you don’t know where Dad is?”

She said, “I don’t know where Dad is. I just know we’re staying with Grandpa tonight.”

Still confused, I started thinking the worst. In a panic, I called my grandfather. Lynn, his wife, picked up.

“Where’s Dad? Are we staying there tonight? Why?” I immediately interrogated.

She responded, “I don’t know. All I know is you’re staying here for a couple nights.”

“What?! A couple days? You know I’m on to my way to my game, right? How am I getting home? What about my clothes?” I frantically threw questions out.

“We will figure it out and pick you up. But I have to go right now. We’re on the bus,” she said calmly. I slumped back in my seat, not having any idea what to think or how to feel.

We arrived at the gym, and even though I was excited for the game an hour ago, I didn’t even want to play it now. I struggled through my game, and as soon as I was done, I texted my sister.

“What the **** is going on??”

She responded, “I don’t know, but there were a bunch of cop cars outside, and I had to talk to CPS, and you will probably have to as well.”

I ran out into the hall so nobody could see me. I slumped against the wall and started bawling. I still didn’t know what was going on, but I was thinking the worst. I didn’t think I’d see my father again, and at that point I didn’t know I was right — I never did see him again. Tears kept rolling down my face until my grandpa arrived with Lynn. The ride home was dead silent. I quietly wept as we passed the road I lived on and pulled into their driveway.

I walked inside and tried to get comfortable. My siblings were already in bed, so I sat on the couch, just staring. Grandpa asked me to go outside to help bring wood in. That’s when he said something that I knew would turn my life upside down.

He said, “I don’t actually need any help with the wood. I wanted to let you know why you’re staying here. Your father was accused of a very serious crime, and there’s a protective order keeping you guys from him. You can’t see, talk or be with him. You also won’t be able to go back into your house.” All I could muster was “oh.” Since my mother was out of the picture, that’s when I knew that my siblings and I were going to have to live with our grandparents.

It’s been over three years since that night. My siblings have moved out of the state, and I’m still here living with my grandparents. Life has calmed down exponentially since that night. Living here can be challenging at times, but it is also the perfect spot for me based on my situation. I love the sense of security we have in our home. I don’t have to worry about if the adults in the home are going to get along anymore. I don’t have to fall asleep to people fighting and yelling at each other anymore. Living here is peaceful and quiet. Words are inadequate to describe how safe and secure I feel living with my grandparents.

My grandfather stands about 6’2″ and has long white hair. He has a serious look on his face most of the time, and most people my age are scared of him. Granted, I was scared of him once as well.

He’s got a good sense of humor, and once you get to know him, you realize he’s really a chill, nice guy. I spend many hours talking to him about many different things, such as sports. Lynn is married to my grandfather. She’s not so tall. I joke with her saying she’s only 5’5″, but she’s probably about 5’8″.

She always has a smile on her face and is jolly all the time. She has more energy than me and my grandfather put together. She loves to banter with me, even though most times I win, and she’s always looking to do something to help someone else. They spoil me all the time, and they like to banter with me. They always seem to be in a good mood no matter how stressful their days were. I always have to keep an eye out and make sure they’re not doing something they aren’t supposed to, such as moving heavy rocks or weed whacking.

I have walked over to both of them and taken tools or jobs from them and said, “Give me that. You’re not supposed to do this. I’ve got it,” to which they respond, “Ah, no, I can do this.” I enjoy it every time, and it’s one of those things you’d think would be irritating, but it just makes me happy. One of the best things about life with my grandparents is the positive mindset that I adopted. It has made me deal with challenges more logically and made personal battles that much easier.

Living here isn’t always the easiest, though. Growing up through your childhood, you’re not supposed to be living with your grandparents. I’ve come to realize that the fact I live here isn’t always the hardest thing; it’s the reasons why I have to stay here. Being here means that I’m not a normal kid who gets his or her parents. Father’s Day and Mother’s Day roll around, and I see all the happy posts and the celebrations for people’s mothers and fathers. All I can think about is how I wished I could celebrate those days with my father and mother.

It’s hard playing in sports games and achieving things such as National Honor Society and looking in the crowd for my parents, even though I know every single time they won’t be there. It’s hard looking at all the families in the community whose parents take a large role in their children’s lives. I always catch myself wishing my parents could and want to play a role in my life.

The most difficult part about staying here is the occasional night where I lie in bed and feel a sense of emptiness. As lucky as I am to have such supportive and caring grandparents, a piece of me is missing. A piece everyone deserves to have.

— — —

Chet Damon is a rising senior at St. Regis Falls School. His work appears in the 2025 anthology Wild Words published by the Adirondack Center for Writing.