My phone rang tonight; it was a friend (who actually reads this blog) saying she was sorry that my middle son Johnny didn't show up at my annual ritual of having lunch on his birthday at a restaurant near where he grew up, for the tenth year in a row. A full decade with no communication whatsoever with the lad; yeah, PAS sucks. (Johnny, on the far right in 2001.)
It was nice of my friend to be concerned, she was thinking I'd be feeling low, but actually…I'm not. He's 28, he makes his choices, and I'm past pining away because my kids are not a part of my life. (A Rin Tin Tin pie for two.)
Johnny, I loved you, and I love you. I hope you are well, although I would have no idea about that. (My solitary lunch done, I took a swallow out of Johnny's beer, symbolically and actually, and took the other half of the pizza home for breakfast.)
Johnny, I'm glad that you were able to attend VCU for eight semesters totally on my dime (I provided for full tuition and fees at your request), and I thank you for the invitation to your graduation (I'm being sarcastic, son). I do believe that what goes around comes around. (Once so innocent, you proved to be susceptible as a minor to adult predators and joined in with your mother in trying to bury me through a phony "fiduciary" suit which got thrown out as "unconscionable" and a "harassment petition," with sanctions and my full costs imposed after years of litigation reaching all the way to the state supreme court.)
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2 comments:
Does it mean you have seen the other son? You only reference John here. I've been following your search and desire for connection for years.
Stay tuned, Myriam. I lost my password for my blog last month and only now found it written in the margin of my 2015 daybook (whew). You can read about my same-old, same-old birthday lunch for my oldest boy in my most recent post, and my youngest has his birthday next week so I expect the usual from him as well.
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