After six months of being sentenced to purgatory, I got a surprise phone call from my son saying he wanted to see me and his father. We met in a local park, neutral territory. The meeting went well, no harsh words spoken, and I was told I was forgiven for testifying at his commitment hearing. While I don’t feel I needed forgiveness–I did what any caring parent would do–I accepted his words without comment, allowing him to relinquish his anger and let bygones be bygones.
Having a relationship with him, no matter how painful, is important even though he will never be the same person he was before being stricken with schizo-affective disorder. He still has delusions and behaves and looks odd, but that’s more my problem than his. I have to let go of what was, and promise to never “save” him again because the repercussions are not worth my own mental health and the destruction of family ties. I’ll leave any future messes to the professionals, hoping they will be there if the need arises. Since he doesn’t believe in medication and is presently court-ordered to take them, I suspect there will be issues down the line. But the saying “One day at a time” is worth remembering. Yesterday was a good day, for which I’m grateful, and we made plans to meet again.