Letter to My Son

After returning home from jail visitation with my son yesterday, I sat down and wrote him a letter.  I needed to put my thoughts on paper...

Dear R.,

It felt good to see you today- to see your authentic smile, your face absent of dark circles under your eyes, your hair groomed and cut. Yea, you look good right now, a big improvement over your appearance when you went in.

I have certainly missed you. My heart has longed for you to be at home while my head has argued that you needed this time away to reflect upon your situation and many other things.  

The relationship between you and I probably hit an all-time low before you went to jail this time.  Partly because the hope that I carried for you returning to any “normalcy” in your life was crushed when you quit your job, then from there, all went downhill.  If only you could understand what my thoughts are.  Your Dad and I are getting older and time for us is running out.   You will not inherit a fortune upon our deaths to live on after we’re gone.  We want to see you become self-reliant.  We want to know that you can take care of yourself when we are no longer here.  That is every parents wish- to see their children sprout their own wings and live their own lives.  We are no different.  I wish to see you assume responsibility for yourself R.  You have to.  No one will do it for you.  I would be just as proud of you whether you made 8.00 an hour or 30.00 an hour, as long as you’re making an honest living, and most of all, trying.  I feel so angry sometimes when I see you wasting away, knowing what you are capable of.  You have a brilliant mind and a load of common sense, but you are allowing it to go to waste.  For years, I held hope- hope that someday you would realize these things, someday you would make up your mind to follow your dreams and stand firm in attaining your goals.  But each time you slide back down that dark hole to hell (addiction), a little bit of my hope goes along with you, and now, there’s barely any hope left.  

Your Dad and I are tired of playing games with you.  We are emotionally exhausted from trying to cope with your addiction and its vicious cycle.  It has wreaked havoc on you, us and everyone else who loves you.  Addiction cares about nothing or no one.  We will NOT do it anymore.  I will always love you.  But unless you make the necessary effort to change your lifestyle, I will love you from a distance.  I would much rather have you in my life but it is ultimately up to you.  

I hope that you are thinking about these things right now.  I hope that you are making plans that include how you’re going to deal with certain situations when you are released.  

I love you, always.  MOM

I mailed the letter yesterday evening.