One year ago my eldest son and I were not speaking. At all.
He was…somewhere. Lost. Using. Physical whereabouts unknown.
Thing is, people often ask me how I do it…living with an autoimmune disease and its challenges…a plethora of secondary afflictions…a looming sense of “time.”
There was a hole in my soul when he left…no medications can fix that shit. No amount of hope, of anguish, of anger, even.
Time was not a friend to me. It did not heal all wounds left by his absence.
March 17th, 2014.
He walked through the door.
He flashed open his jacket.
The epitome of “Colour!!”
I she-bopped up and down.
I *squee’d* more…
He held me as I sobbed out how proud I am of him…for persevering, for overcoming, for enduring…for owning…
It wasn’t pretty. 😉
He laughed, I sobbedlaughed.
He hugged me again.
His first day of his co-op/employment experience.
What a difference a year makes.
Let no one ever tell you any different.