Thirteen years ago, my son vanished, leaving me with debt and illness. Last night, he returned with two suitcases and a smile, but something felt off.
I woke up to an empty room and a note from my son, Daniel, saying he was leaving and not coming back. My world crashed again, just six months after Robert’s death. Alone, sick, and overwhelmed, I worked two jobs to keep up with bills and treatments.
Days passed, and Daniel disappeared without a trace. The police couldn’t help; he was an adult. I kept working, hoping things would improve, but every holiday reminded me of the silence. Years passed, and I slowly climbed out of debt but struggled with loneliness and regret.
Then, one evening, Daniel returned. He apologized for leaving, explaining his struggles with addiction and crime. Though part of me wanted to forgive him, the other part was guarded. Later that night, I caught him stealing from me. Anger flooded back, and I kicked him out.
As he left, I realized I had survived without him. I had endured the worst, and I was finally ready to focus on myself. I called Dr. Chen about the support group and therapy. It was time to rebuild, for me.