It comes in many forms. With it, grieving. Who has many faces.

My son has struggled for the past few months. Because this isn’t just my story, I don’t feel the details are necessary.

After a conversation he and I had Thursday, along with events on Friday, it became clear he could no longer live with me.

The past three months have been a rollercoaster. Trying conventional ideas. Others not so much. But being in a situation I didn’t (and still don’t) know how to handle, I tried what I could think of in hopes of turning things around.

Luckily, we are part of a village. And he, very much a village child. Members of the village and I are working together to figure out what comes next.

What we can all agree on is he needs a fresh start.

In the meantime, he is staying with one of his grandparents.

And I am grieving.

For his choices. His naivety. The fact he will no longer be here full time (at least for a while) to frustrate me with his one sentence responses. Dirty hand prints on white walls.

But it also means I won’t get to remind him I love him every day. That he is not the choices he makes.

Have I handled the past few months with grace and poise? Absolutely not. It’s shown me I have plenty of my own work to do.

I can say I have been full of guilt and shame. Berating myself in all ways possible. Thinking about what I SHOULD have done. Ways that I have failed him. Going over everything I feel I did incorrectly.

But ultimately, choices have consequences.

Some moments, I am okay and lean into the now tension free energy of the house.

But then it creeps up on me, the emptiness, the weight- the sadness. And not long after, I am sobbing for the child who is lost. Who I feel I have lost.

In my bones, I know this abrupt change is the best shot he has. And the space creates room for our relationship to heal and grow.

However, the ache will continue. And the grief pour out.

More posts to come.

Published by amberalice

Mother of spoods. Birb lunch lady.

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