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.