He had been in trouble most of his childhood. As a boy he said there was an anger inside that he had to let out every so often or it would explode inside and kill him.

He left one night at 15 and only called twice in 20 years. I often cry at night, hoping he will talk to me and tell me that he is okay. He broke into my home six winters ago and stole my watch and everything from his mother’s savings jar.

He wrote, “I’m sorry, Papa” on the fridge. That was the last we heard. I have stopped calling hospitals now. I still hope he comes home for good. I would give him everything I have.