I wonder if they have ever guessed their importance to us now. How we devote our days and nights to being better for them, and for ourselves, in their names.
I would be a shell of a person had I not loved my son. I do not see how I could have lived past middle age without him to love and loving me. I do not even want to think about how I would have lived the rest of my life.
Maybe this was part of the problem: our sons felt they were everything to us. And their lives alone paled. They resent the way they were loved. Because it ended. That love that would not let anything else touch it, had to end. And that is what our son's will not forgive us for.
COPA
