We don’t know where our oldest son is.
He keeps in touch with his older sister, but there is great offence between us. He changed his last name. Made other decisions about his life that we didn’t understand.
Lotta water 🌊 under that bridge.
We think of our 23yearold as kind of a prodigal son. We pray for him to come home every day. I’ve mostly stopped having night mares about him leaving, stopped wondering if we did this or that right. Is that called the bargaining stage of grieving?
It doesn’t hurt as much as it used to. That’s a relief. I’m starting to remember the good times with him.
I have been listening to Joyce Meyer lately. And she talks a lot about enjoying your life while you’re waiting for God to work, so I’m trying to do that.
I think I’m doing better at being happy.