Tomorrow (or later today) will be hard. I know know that now, but I’ve still been shoving my feelings down this week.

Two years ago, on September 1, 2022, I received one of the worst phone calls a parent could get. My bonus son committed suicide.

I hadn’t talked to him about anything major in about a month, and I find myself wondering if I would have seen how he was doing if I had gone with his dad to his house the earlier that week.

I had been delivering newspapers as income while I was looking for a job, so I was tired. I just didn’t feel like going out.

I wish he had turned to us and let us know how he felt. I wish I could go back and let him know that we were there for him. I really wish I had a time machine so I could give him one more hug, make sure he knew his dad and I both love him very much.

There are so many things I’d go back and change.

I’d better try to get some sleep. Lateness and g’nite.