He lost the support of his family when he was nineteen.  Subsequent to years of tough love, his parents put him out of the house.  The last straw is when they discover that he stole checks from their checkbook.  Burning bridges throughout the years, he alienates extended family and friends.

His parents blamed themselves for not making him strong enough to resist the temptations of drugs.  They tried to find fault in their parenting skills.  Through counseling of their son and his parents, the parents take comfort in realizing that they had fostered him with plenty of love and nurturing.  The choices their son made were his decisions.

Their son promises after his last exodus from prison that he will turn his life around.  Released from prison in the spring after completing two years of confinement, drug counseling and culinary training, he embarks upon a new life.  This time things would be different, he is embraced with the support of his parents and sister.

For months, everything is perfect, the parents boast of their son’s accomplishments.  Everyday the mother talks to her son on the telephone so when he misses a day it doesn’t bother her.  She chuckles to herself, it isn’t necessary for him to call her, especially now that he has a girlfriend.  She doesn’t want the girlfriend to think he’s a mama’s boy.  By the third day, when her son doesn’t answer his cell phone, the mother worries…

Their endearing son disappeared a few months ago, leaving his parents and sister to worry about him.  They reported him missing to the police, fearing that he has met a catastrophic end.  His absence is agonizing.  Finally, there is news, not that the son is dead, but incarcerated again.  This is too much for the mother to bear.  She writes:

There is very little satisfaction in knowing where you are because you have chosen once again to forfeit your freedom.  For the life of me, I will never understand why you desire to live in a world of illegal drugs, burglary and lies.  Even after three hours of drug counseling everyday for two years, it is not enough for you to turn your life around.  Is there any hope for you?  Simply, you have not been able to survive without living a life of crime.  Your world consists of segments of temporary insanities leaving you with unfulfilled voids.  This disease of using substances to escape your responsibilities perplexes me.  It causes you to live off your drug-craved wits, grasping for things you have no right to possess, to barter for money so you can continue to exist with very little control over your senses except for the primal desire to stay high.  Why son?  Why?

The life of working as a chef, earning and saving money and living in your own apartment among your own things seems too hard for you to handle.  You have chosen an easier path; a penal institution to care for all of your needs.  They dress you in that old familiar uniform and the prison issued shoes.  You choose to walk away from new shoes and clothes, more clothes that you have ever possessed.  They feed you and provide you a place to stay.  It is so much easier than you working and paying your own way.  The prison controls your movements, telling you when to work, when to relax, when to sleep and when to eat, just like a programmable monkey.  There’ll be no more listening to your own music or watching a television you don’t have to share; no more cooking for yourself in your own kitchen; no more leisure time to surf the Web; no more socializing with your family and friends.  All of whom care about you and implore your safety.  There is no need to tell you that you have disappointed us, more importantly, you have disappointed yourself. 

We wish to thank you for honoring us with a gift of yourself for three months, the best gift you have given us in twenty-one years.  We will remember it and treasure it.  Your little niece will only remember you from pictures and not an uncle to look up to, but the uncle no one will talk about because he is the black sheep of the family.  When she met you in the spring, she sensed that you must have been a part of the family between she looked content while you held her in your arms.  Her birthday is coming up and I’m sorry you’ll miss it.

I resent how you left us to dismantle your apartment and distribute your things.  We invested our time and money on you and you walked away from everything without saying goodbye.  Your friends at the halfway house and church you joined have asked about you.  How am I supposed to tell them that you have let us down?  It is too embarrassing to tell them that you have returned to prison so I’m telling them you have been found.  Your father and I are hurt, but your sister is hurt even more.  You deserted her again.  Perhaps one day you will be strong enough to overcome your drug addiction and you will want to take care of yourself in an honorable fashion.  I love you, but will love you from a distance, which has been my habit for several years. 

Here are some things for you to ponder.  How will you retire without a work history?  You’ll need IRAs and/or 401k programs to support you in your golden years.  You’ll need health insurance and life/death insurance.  I can only pay for your life insurance while I’m alive.  What will happen to you if I die?  Will you have a pauper’s grave?  Who is going to take care of you when you become old?  We’ll have your sister to take care of us.  Whom will you have?  Maybe you don’t plan on having a future.  If this is the case, there’ll be no need to plan for one.  Farewell son.