A Thousand Goodbyes
A Thousand Goodbyes
Was it the endless nights…watching him use, crying myself to sleep, naively believing he could stop?
Was it flying him to California for rehab, clinging to hope yet knowing deep down… I might never see him again?
Was it the moment I knew he had relapsed…and I walked away, heartbroken but helpless, holding my boundary and fearing it could be our last goodbye?
Was it the call that shattered my world: "He's not breathing"?
Was it seeing his lifeless body in the hospital, begging him to come back?
Was it hearing the words "legally brain dead" and realizing the fight was truly over?
Was it watching them take him into surgery to donate his organs…kissing him for the last time, knowing he would save lives even in death?
Which one was the hardest goodbye?
I buried my son long before his final breath.
Again and again, piece by piece.
Maybe it was all of them.
Maybe it was the slow unraveling of hope.
Or maybe… it was the moment I realized that loving him meant letting him go.