June 8, 2012
I’ve been
on a roller coaster of emotions that past few days. Most mornings the first thought in my mind is
about my son. As I go about my day, one
minute I’m fine, the next I’m close to tears, in tears, angry, or full of
anxiety. The simplest things set me
off. I see a young man that reminds me
of my son, who looks healthy and happy, and I’m overcome with thoughts of what
could have been. Not that I’ve given up
on the dream of him having a happy productive life, but I know that dream has
to be postponed.
I know I’m
bringing the anxiety on myself, but it’s like a runaway train sometimes that I
can’t seem to stop. Only when I stop and
remind myself to trust
God, and once again hand my son back to him, do I find
peace. Acceptance of the situation is
the only path to peace for me right now.
My old habit of wanting to “fix” things keeps surfacing though, and I
have to constantly be aware and resist it when I start getting those thoughts
in my head. I just feel like I should be
doing something. But what is there to do
really? I intend to write a letter of
support asking for leniency to the judge when his court date is closer, but
right now I don’t even know his court date, or if one has been set. I’ll know more after I talk to him at
visitation on the 17th. I am
very certain that he will serve time in prison.
How much time is the question right now.
It’s sad
that I’ll probably see my son more often now that he’s in jail, even if it’s
only every other week. I think I’ve
mentioned before that he had been avoiding me and I rarely got to see him or
talk to him.
We went and
got his car from impound. I can’t
describe how awful it was to go through all of his and his girlfriend’s things
and clean out the car. Pretty much all
of their worldly possessions were stuffed into the back seat, along with
rotting food and a trash can full of trash.
My son is 28 years old, and everything he owns fits into the back seat of
his car. The smell is still stuck in my
nostrils. I scrubbed and cleaned it as
best I could, and then I came in and scrubbed myself. I can’t imagine the power of an addiction
that causes people to choose living in those conditions. I’ve said it before, I’ll say it over and
over, meth is pure evil. Satan’s candy.
In jail, he is safe, he has a roof over his head, food in his belly, and clothes on his back and no drugs to use. It is hard I know but you will come to accept that. You will be glad he is not on the street using. And most of all.... You know where he is, safe. The first visit is the hardest. Leaving that visit is even harder. Just remember that you are never alone!! Where there's life, there's hope.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Laura. As awful as the situation is, I know that what you're saying is true. At least I know where he is and that he's not using. There is peace to be found in those thoughts. As bad as it is seeing him in jail, all the sleepless nights I spent wondering where he was, if he was safe, had food to eat, or if he was lying in a ditch somewhere, were worse. I will cling to the phrase "where there is life, there is hope," like a life-preserver.
DeleteJail = Protective Custody
ReplyDelete(when I return from my trip I will link you on my blog)
Thanks, Dad. I hope you're enjoying your trip!
Delete