I saw Mike walking up the street. Hoodie over his head, hiding his face, but I knew from the way he walked and the skateboard he was carrying -- the one we bought him just weeks ago when we dropped him off at the halfway house.
Respecting his wishes to have no contact with him, I did not honk or wave. I couldn't see his face.
He was heading up the long hill toward our home, but I'm telling myself he isn't coming here. We've asked him not to. I hope that he can respect that one request.
But it's an odd feeling to see your child who you have invested so much emotion in over 9 years, walking down the road, completely removed from you, now an "adult" by society's standards -- not in school, no job, nowhere really to go and pushing away the ONLY people who really care about him.
It makes me . . . well, for lack of a better word, it makes me sigh.
2 comments:
Hi Claudia,
I discovered your blog after researching FASD online. I've commented on a few of your posts. I'll definitely grab "Damaged Angels," as well as anything else you can recommend. I hope that things do get better with Mike, but as I've discovered through my research, FASD is a cruel disorder in the sense that it robs children of their ability to make good, productive choices.
that is so sad and I feel for you and for the pain you must feel. Dont give up hope. We have a God that is bigger than even FASD
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