A young attorney asked me:
“How do families know when help becomes control?”
I thought for a moment.
“Help gives someone more choices.”
The room became quiet.
“Control takes those choices away.”
Three years have passed.
Michael still writes occasionally.
His early letters blamed Rachel.
Then his lawyer.
Then Henry.
Then me.
His most recent letter was different.
“Mom, I understand now that I kept calling it concern because admitting what I really wanted would have made me hate myself. I believed I deserved what you and Dad built. I understand why you don’t answer. I’m sorry.”
I read it twice.
Then put it away.
Forgiveness is not the same thing as access.
Perhaps someday I will completely forgive my son.
Maybe part of me already has.
But Michael will never again possess a key to my home.
Or access to my accounts.
Or authority over my decisions.
