When my son moved in with his girlfriend, I envisioned cozy visits and our close bond enduring. Living just ten minutes away, I expected weekend drop-ins and shared dinners. But weeks turned into months with no calls, texts, or visits. My attempts to reach out—messages, money, calls—met silence, each unanswered effort a small wound. The realization hit hard: the closeness I cherished seemed to matter only to me. Last week, he finally answered a call, but his curt, dismissive tone, urging me not to call so often, felt like a door slamming shut on our
bond. It stung deeply, forcing me to confront the truth. For my own peace, I stopped waiting. I joined a book club, started volunteering, and surrounded myself with people who valued me. The ache of his absence lingers, but it taught me love must flow both ways. Instead of chasing someone unwilling to meet me halfway, I’m pouring energy into relationships and passions that bring warmth and meaning, rediscovering my own joy.
