I waited until 11pm because that's what I had promised you. I wasn't really surprised when you didn't come home...again. You haven't spent a night at home in a while. It seems that sleeping in your car (or who knows where) is better than being here. Wasn't surprised when you didn't text me your plans. Avoiding communication is par for the course for you lately.
Earlier today, you asked me if we could go back to the way it used to be...and my answer was no. Crystal clear answer to me but it seemed like a surprise to you. Not quite sure why since to be honest, "the way it used to be" has basically sucked for a while now. It broke my heart to tell you no because you're my son and my instinct is to try to keep you safe. You don't know how much I wish I could turn back the hands of time and make this better! Sadly, between your abuse of drugs and alcohol, your anger and emotional abuse, and your refusal to get help, having you here means the rest of the family is at risk. As much as I love you, I can't allow you to stay here until you're ready to get therapy and medication. I hate this...but I will always love you. My son is still in there somewhere. I refuse to give up on you!
I've packed your clothes, stripped your bed, shed more than a few tears as I've reminisced about the years I've been privileged to be your mom. I'm ready to let your 21 year old self go, not because I don't love you but because I do. It's time to fly from the nest...I hope you will find your way in the world safely. Please don't forget where home is...we'll be here if you need us.
With all my love,
Mom
Every family is unique and has its own story...this is the story of our family, brought together through the dual adventures of childbirth and adoption. It all started with seven year old Kate and her heartfelt wish for a sister...
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And then Aniyar and Madiyar joined us
Wishes do come true...
About Me
- alphamama
- In this life, I am Alphamama, mom to a pack of five adolescent wolf pups, married to my Alpha male who fights the corporate wars each day to bring home the bacon. At present, it's my job to keep our teenagers fed, clothed, chauffeured, and safe from harm. No wonder they act like they were raised by wolves...but I'm crazy about them and wicked proud to call them mine.
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1 comment:
Dearest Dee,
My heart aches for you and this situation. I know all too well the agony of having to let go and let God protect our babies (and our homeless mothers) without our direct involvement and supervision. I suspect He knows what He's doing. You know my situation, and it's now 9 years of silence. My last Christmas with my kids was 2006. All I can tell you is that each and every morning (every five minutes in my case) try to pledge to rely on and TRUST whatever Spirit works for you is there, and concentrate on the tasks before you now: namely 4 incredible children who need a mama and an incredible man who needs a wife who is present for them. I work now on blooming on where I'm planted and with far more effort and consciousness than I've given it in my years of fury and depression. Finally it's taking root (sappy word play intended). I'm here, Sis. Love and hugs, two shoulders, a great left ear, and a 6 pack of soft diaper cloths to dry tears. (I find them more absorbent than linen and Kleenex.)
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