It’s been a long time since I’ve blogged. Sometimes it’s just too soon to share the magnitude of hurt. Until now, I couldn’t even gather the words.
He’s gone. Off to pursue his future without us in it.
It’s part of this new family situation – you know, the one where every kid has a second family? Read that as escape plan. Gone are the days of trying to figure out how to live under a parent’s rules and expectations. Don’t like the pressure? Can’t handle responsibility? Run.
And that’s exactly what my son did. He didn’t like the requirements for maintaining his GPA. He didn’t want scrutiny on his company influences. And, ultimately, he didn’t want us to monitor his comings and goings. So, he simply left for school and disappeared.
We called for help – spoke at length to police dispatched. Apparently, they don’t actively search for runaways. It’s not considered eminent danger, and though we may sit up worrying about where he might be, there’s no urgency in alerting the world our child is missing. He’s just another child in angst who skipped out on his family.
And when he made it to school, they removed him from the “list,” but no one detained him from leaving again, and again not coming home. The weekend went by, with him on the runaway record again. And then, a call. Unlisted number. I answered it on a premonition. Police. “Is your son missing?”
My heart dropped. “Yes.”
“We’ve found him.”
I pray: Speak faster. Clarify. Where’s my child? Is he ok?
“He’s here with us…fighting… come get him.”
And then, a tsunami. Picked up. Momentous wave. Dropped off. Crashing waters. Do not pass go. The tide recedes.
Out of sight, but not out of mind. Perhaps he’s better, happier with his other half. Maybe it’s selfish to think with us is best.
But how do you let go when every day she asks, “Apple, home?” and this home is no longer his?