by: Eve CrawfordPhoto courtesy: Eve CrawfordSubscribe nowOn the first day of December, as I decorated the house, sent out invitations for my Christmas Eve get-together for neighbors and friends, and used my blow dryer to dust off our fake tree, a sense of monotony descended on me. The routine of Christmas, of repeated traditions, seemed to melt into each other; one year becoming indistinguishable from the next. It felt as though the meaning of the holiday was getting lost in the overeating, the fatigue, and the spending of the season.But as I tied another bow onto the tree, I felt myself smile. Not this year. This year something was happening that would take me back to the soul of the season. My son, Spencer, who is in his mid-thirties and the editor-in-chief and founder ofthis very publication, will be bringing his partner, Sean, home for Christmas week. And the thought of that brought me joy.Sean grew up in rural Virginia in a deeply religious family that views homosexuality as a sin. At 17, he left home and moved to New York City to make a life for himself. A year later, on a phone call with his mom, he summoned the courage to tell her he was gay. She started crying and couldnt stop. On his next visit home, she said to him, You might as well have died in a car accident.As I adjusted the lights on the tree, I thought about the greater LGBTQ community at this vulnerable time of year. 34% of LGBTQ people have moved away from family to escape discrimination. 52% have few or no close family or friends they can ask for help and support. And more than 57% of LGBTQ youth have experienced at least one negative or rejecting experience from a parent. I thought about Sean, whose Mom told Uncloseted Media over text that his assertions about her rejection are incorrect but that she believes in the word of God and that God says the act of homosexuality is a sin.I thought back to the AIDS epidemic, of the many men who were struck down by the disease and of how someeven in my circle of theatre friends were more frightened of having to come out to their parents than of dying.In 1987, I helped look after my dear friend Tony in the last months of his battle with the disease. On the day he died, I went over to sit with his partner until the doctor arrived to sign the death certificate. When he got there, I will never forget the painful phone call he had to make to Tonys elderly, Catholic mother in England. She not only had no idea Tony was sick, but she had no idea that Tony was gay. As I sat, head bowed, studying the pattern on Tonys Turkish rug, all I could hear was the doctors side of the conversation. But the poor womans shock and confusion at the end of the line was palpable.He died of Acquired Immunodeficiency Syndrome, the doctor repeated.Pause.Then, He died of AIDS.There was a long pause as the doctor listened.At last, he said gently, Yes, you can call it cancer if you like.With Tony, left, and Spencers Dad, Ross Macnaughton, right. Photo courtesy: Eve CrawfordI wonder about the thousands of parents who lost their children in that war. If they could have them back, even for one day, would they give two hoots if they were gay?But even in these so-called enlightened times, LGBTQ friends of all ages have shared with me the various responses they received from their parents when they came out to them. You have been struck by lightning, You can change, or, You are dead to me.Uncloseted Media is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support our work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.How are they spending the holiday season? I wondered. What heartache and loss both parents and children must be feeling in this so-called season of love.My son Spencer and I never came close to estrangement. But when he came out to me at eight years old, I struggled to accept the truth of his courageous declaration. Thats just because your brother calls you that, I said, handing him a Kleenex to wipe away the tears. (In those days, boys called everything gay.) Fast forward seven years when he told me a second time, and I did it again. Maybe you dont know right now. At your age, theres confusion about all sorts of things. It took him a third time at 16 for me to finally hear him. This, despite my friendship with Tony and despite the fact that I am an actor and a Liberal! Last Mothers Day, I wrote an article for MSNBC about the stages I had to work through to arrive at acceptance. First came the denial: Was he just going through a stage? Then came the guilt: Was it my fault? Followed by the shame: How will my frail, elderly parents react? None of their many grandchildren were gay. And finally, the fear: What prejudice and danger will he face?Of course, none of these issues were really about Spencer. They were all about me. The guilt and the denial are laughable to me now. As if I had anything to do with my sons sexual orientation.Take it from me this holiday season: If a child tells you they are gay, believe them. That truth is as real as the color of their eyes. And when you hear those conspiracy theories about how kids are becoming gay or transgender through social contagion on YouTube or through the teachings of progressive teachers, treat them with the ridicule they deserve.As for the shame related to how my parents would have reacted, a paradoxical memory recently came to me. Both my parents regularly attended the Anglican church. Yet in the last five years of his life, my father, who died in 2006 at ninety years of age, stopped going. I attributed this to his increasing frailty. But after he died, I mentioned this in conversation with my mom and her response gobsmacked me. Oh heavens no! Thats not why he quit. He quit because he was furious with our church for not accepting gay marriage!Spencer, left, with my Dad, right. Photo courtesy: Eve CrawfordBoth my parents died without knowing Spencer was gay. Yet maybe they did. I have a feeling if I told them today, their response would be, And?As for the fear regarding my sons well-being? Yes, to an extent that was true. But more to the point was my own desperate need to hang on to what had been my vision for his future: The woman he would marry. The children he would have (my grandchildren!)So, what has all this got to do with the upcoming holiday season? If I could make one wish for all the parents out there who are struggling to accept their childs queer identity, it would be to let go. Let go of all of it: the denial, the guilt, the shame and the fear.And yes, even let go of your religious beliefs surrounding homosexuality.After all, isnt the most overwhelming message about Jesus birth one of love? And isnt love, at its fullest, unconditional? Isnt it about acceptance, without prerequisites and expectations?Shakespeare nailed it when he wrote, Love is not love which alters when it alteration finds.Photo courtesy: Eve CrawfordWhen I finally surrendered my own fear and resistance about my vision of how my sons life should be, it was as though every muscle in my body let go.What I didnt expect was the joy that followed. Of fully connecting with my son. Of fully sharing the laughter, the tears, the challenges of both our lives.My only regret was the eight lost years of that joyous and authentic connection.None of us know how much time we have left in our precious life. So, this is my Christmas wish: For any parent out there imprisoned by the heartache of loss, pick up the phone and call your child while you still can. You only have to say two words.Come home.If objective, nonpartisan, rigorous, LGBTQ-focused journalism is important to you, please consider making a tax-deductible donation through our fiscal sponsor, Resource Impact, by clicking this button:Donate to Uncloseted Media