Three: I spent fourteen months performing certainty for my son, and he spent fourteen months performing it right back, and I taught him how.
This is the one that costs me.
Where do you think he learned it? He learned it in my kitchen. He learned it from a woman who came home from a parking-garage cry in March of 2025, washed her face, walked in the door, and said “so the doctor says we’ve got options” in a bright voice to a boy who had already read the report on the portal.
I built the house where nobody could say the true thing. And then my child went and found the one room in it where he could — a bedroom floor, with a sixteen-year-old — and he died without ever having the conversation with his own mother.
That one is mine. Entirely. And I’ll carry it.
Nobody Was Thrown Out, Nothing Dramatic Happened After That, and Here Is Where We Are Five Years On
