Imagine

I once wrote that I couldn't imagine what type of hell it's finally going to take to break up my marriage. I can now.

My wife doesn't want my older son back in our house. She's scared of his anger and doesn't believe he will ever change. I've never been scared of him and have to believe he can get well. And we each think that the other one is crazy.

"Do you love him?" I asked her last night, while trying to eat a few bites of dinner.

"Yes I love him," she said. "I love him dearly."

"Then how can you turn your back on him? He needs help," I said. "You can't give him back to anyone! We're his parents!"

"I've given him 18 years of my life and now he needs to live his own life. It's time to cut the apron strings," she said flatly. "I can't be one of those parents like in my friend Laura's Families Anonymous group that's still talking about taking care of their 37-year-old child. I'm not going to do it! Are you going to be one of those people?"

"I don't know," I said quietly. "I might be."

"Well," she said, "I'm not gonna be there with you."

"Okay."