B. is on Hys way back from the airport as I write. As much as I wanted to go with them, I just couldn't (mainly for fear that the stress of saying goodbye, and in such a public place to boot, would bring on an asthma attack...last thing I wanted was my boy to go with the memory of his mom gasping for breath).
Anyway, it's been a rough - understatement of the year - few days. B. though is of the same opinion that I am - that it won't be long before my boy decides to come home. (I have this dream right now of him turning up unexpectedly just before Christmas...not likely to happen, but it can't hurt to hope.) He obviously didn't want to go and it really did seem at times that he wouldn't go, right up until just before he left. Plus, he actually told B. at the airport - B. just phoned to tell me - that he didn't want to go but ''needed'' to go for a few weeks. I have no idea what's going on, but I do know my boy loves me, and B., and his sister, and that he knows, beyond any doubt, that we love him in return. And that, in itself, gives me comfort.
I do want to thank you again though for the support. I've been telling myself over and over again the past few days, just think yourself lucky that he's not one of those 18-year-olds in Afghanistan, just think how their mothers must be feeling. Or the mothers on here (and elsewhere) who will never see their children again. Or, for that matter, any mother, anywhere in the world, whose child is sick, or dying, or dead. Still though, it hurts. And still, I am, in a kind of way, grieving. This thread though - parts of which I actually read to my son - has helped me immensely and I am so very grateful, not only to those who have posted, but to Medusa and Jack for giving me somewhere I can feel safe enough to ask for help at a time when I've never needed it more.
Thank you.
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