Living without.....

Jax has been placed in a residential psych treatment center for a few months.

The progression of his mental illness along with homicidal threats and actual physical harm inflected upon me, is what  paved the one way road leading away from our home.

It has been two weeks since I have given my son 

a good morning kiss, 

his vitamins next to his breakfast bowl,

his backpack to hold his homework as he rides his bike to school,

a welcome home greeting from school accompanied by an afternoon snack,

a tickle on the back while reading a bedtime story,

a tuck-in goodnight.

Randy, River and myself, are in a tornado of emotion.

Most emotions  have come as a surprise considering the circumstances.

I equate our grieving to a death;

where in the beginning moments of losing that person,

 all you can remember are the wonderful qualities that person held.

We have missed him terribly.

Randy and I cry daily.

Sometimes together....

but most of the time individually in our own corner of the room.

The house is quiet and lonely for those of us who have become accustomed to walking on egg shells, 

looking over our shoulder for the enemy,

fighting against defiance, 

and trying to show love to someone who can not accept.

The addiction of love will keep the battered pining for the abuser's company.

I want to give up on him so badly.

But I just can't....not yet.

He's our boy!

We are a battered family in crisis

who loves and misses their son/brother/enemy.

We are doing our best,

but this is so fucking hard that I can't even put it into words.

I am constantly left with a face full of salty tears, a tired heart, and a lack of  conversation.....

[I'm sorry.....

I didn't want to make this so gaddamn dramatic.  

I thought I was ready to share....

apparently, I'm still ridiculously fragile]