Four years and six days ago, I wrote a blog post entitled "I miss my son."
It was a poem of sorts, and I remember how it hurt like hell--and then some--to write it. I remember crying the whole time I was typing. It came from my heart, though, and I had to get it out.
Last night I revisited that post and cried again. But this time I cried tears of happiness.
The reasons for my happiness lie in this excerpt from that post:
Ask me what one thing I would wish for if given the chance.
It's such an easy question to answer:
I want my son back.
I want him to feel happiness.
I want him to feel at ease.
I want him to feel wanted.
I want him to feel like he belongs.
I want him to laugh.
I want him to love.
I want him to live.
I want him to be free of the demons that seem to haunt him.
I read that passage over and over and over again last night.
Then I realized: Four years and six days later...
My son feels happiness.
My son feels at ease.
My son feels wanted.
My son feels like he belongs.
My son laughs.
My son is in love.
My son is living.
My son appears to be free of the demons that haunted him.
And best of all?
I believe I have my son back.
"Don't give up, don't ever give up." --Jim Valvano
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