His Deal, My Son's Death

f confusion in his eyes, but it

You' ll really say anythin

te, cruel trick on my part. The thought was so absurd, so twi

' s arm and physically hauled him out of the room, slamming the doo

s. He used to be charming, attentive. He' d bring me flowers, surprise me with weekend trips. He' d listen when I talked about art, and he' d

y. Or, I tho

ted in college, a fiery, intellectual romance that he' d always spoken of with a strange kin

iness trips with her became longer. Then, one night, I saw a picture online from a tech gala. Ethan and Evelyn, thei

nderstood him in a way I couldn' t. The words were a slap in the face. I thought about leaving then. I packed a bag. But then I looked at L

as my reason for everything. I would protect him, nurture him, and give him the happy childhood I was determined he would have, with or without h

door stopped. A heavy sil

He didn' t send a single flower. He was a ghost, an absence more painful than any argument. Richard had apparently stripped him

eld my arm, her own tears falling silently. Richard

he weight of it was unbearable. My son, my vibrant, la

my chest. It was al

I told Eleanor and Richard. M

understanding. "Of course, dea

our home is always open to you. But I understand if yo

o. But my pain was different. It was the pain of a mother, a primal, all-consuming agony that had ripped