The loss of a son is a physical thing, but also a feeling of terror. Thoughts that float about are running with doubt of worthiness and completion of a duty that went completely wrong. I know it’s for his best and I know he’s loved and cared for, but I’ve been fighting for the cure of his mental illness for years and keep asking myself … what could I have done different? Why is it so hard to believe I tried my best for him? I did the church, doctors, medicines, therapies, family, and friends and I need the end he still had to go away. It hurts so bad knowing I don’t get to be the one to save him and hopefully come out of his mental rut he’s dug himself into. The hatred of the man who wronged him continues to dig deeply at his mind and soul. The memory of his childhood should bring him tears of happiness and love, but instead it brings fear and menacing images of the evil that reigned in his life and all from someone who was supposed to be loving family. Then years later through all the terror and visions and voices he still struggles with the pain that he refuses to let go of. It’s scary to know what he said to me in what seemed to be complete mental clarity. “When I get older I will find him and kill him for what he did to me. I will welcome prison!” Those words coming from a loved ones mouth over and over again burn through your heart and soul worse than your hand over a flame. The worry I now carry that there is nothing I can do to change this is such a heavy burden. I have tears falling of self pity and shame that I allowed it to get this far with him. When I told him to not be afraid to express his feelings, it was out of self purity and mind clarity. I was taught tears are weakness and being strong doesn’t make you a hero. These words were carved in my world on a daily basis. Men treating you like a sex object was normal and if you fought it, you weren’t being obedient and we’re told, “you are not above that”. I fought so hard to keep my children safe from the evils of the world that I was blinded by the evil hidden behind those ignorant loving eyes. The hatred that follows is not what’s wrong. I understand that whole heartedly. I’m just worried I lost the battle to raise a very nice young man with good morals to a man to has no heart or morals even though there’s been no contact. How could I have lost what should have been an easy battle. I had all the resources and time I could ask for and yet the three Hell in a cell moments concurred the fact I lost him!!