What I Didn't Tell Him

As it happens, my son won't be coming home until Friday. He was less than thrilled about this news, but seemed to take it in stride.

"Whatever," he sighed. "What have you been up to today?"

"Nothing much," I told him, which wasn't entirely true.

Here's what I didn't tell him:

First thing in the morning, I called both of his probation officers to give them status reports and then did the same with our lawyer because we have another court date next week. I then spoke with the school psychologist, who has been arranging placement at a special learning center that'll provide individualized instruction so my son can graduate with the rest of his class. He in turn suggested that I immediately contact the director of the place to set up an intake interview.

After I hung up with her, I left a message for my son's therapist at the drug treatment program, another one for the leader of his teen group, a third for the dude who's in charge of our family group and a fourth for the staff psychiatrist who will be administering and monitoring meds. Then I spoke with the head of the adolescent unit at the hospital and she suggested one last family meeting before they kick him loose. And finally, I called my sister to tell her what I just told you.

As fucked up as this whole ordeal has been, I keep having these George Bailey-like moments whenever I stop to think how incredibly understanding everyone has been and how much they all care about my son.

And that's what I'm gonna tell him tomorrow.