When the Police Phone You…

After lodging the Missing Person Report (for my son), it is only a short amount of time that I receive a phone call from the Police. It is so weird and surreal when you answer and confirm your name to the caller – how you have that sense that the caller is going to be a police officer.  And then all you can hear is your heartbeat – because you are not sure what type of news the police officer is going to give you. How often do these brave law enforcers have to contact bereaved family members?

And the news is as bad as any mother needs to hear: “We have arrested your son this morning”.

Upon reflection, the only fortunate event was that my son’s drug fuelled actions miraculously did not cause harm to innocent people – or indeed himself.

The only degree of relief from the arrest, was that for the first time in almost three months I knew that my son was ‘off the streets’ and ‘out of the crack house’.  But the word “arrest” carries with it some feeling of finality – I no longer had hope to cling onto.  A mother will always harbour the most optimistic opinion of her children – but even optimism has a ‘use by’ date.

So now our daily routine is riddled with sadness, grief and a foreboding sense of failure. I am no longer the mother of a beautiful, talented twenty-six year old son, but now the mother of a prisoner.  Incarcerated due to an ‘ice bender’ of criminal offences. As I write these words it seems incomprehensible that this is a reality – surely this can’t happen to families like ours?

This is a story of a grieving and healing mother.

The Search Continues…

I try to piece the ‘fragments’ of my ‘missing son’ together – a bit like looking for the lost threads of his life. His friends continue to phone us – providing us with little or no tangible evidence of his existence or whereabouts.

Unopened letters also continue to arrive – at a guess mostly overdue bills and fines.

The recurring comment voiced by all who know him, is that this ‘rejection’ is uncharacteristic of my hard working, family orientated son.  And so, it is during the fourth week of ‘silence’ that I tearfully walk into the police station to complete a Missing Person Report.  I feel like I have lost faith in my son – and that by filing the report I have now involved the police in what maybe just a ‘family’ or ‘personal issue’.

So I now grieve not only for my missing son, but also for the lost days of happiness that we once so readily shared. I may have polarised and deepened the chasm that my son now exists within.

And the sleepless nights continue.

This blog is about grieving mothers.

When Our Adult Children Reject Us


The first week is hardly noticed, as the routine of everyday life masks the absent messages or phone calls.  But a mother almost always senses when there is a ‘change’ within her child.  And as the child ages into an adult – these ‘changes’ can be felt evermore.

By the end of two weeks, it becomes difficult to sleep normally – the long hours of night are interrupted with random scenarios of an adult child living a very troubled existence.  Difference avenues of contact are used to try and reach our son, who at age 26 deems it fair and justified to suddenly ‘cut us’ from his life.  Phone calls, text messages, facebook are all rigorously used to establish contact – but to no avail.

After three weeks (or 21 sleepless nights), we still do not know of the location, welfare or well-being of our much loved son.  Unopened mail…

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