Member-only story
TRUE STORY
This Is the Story I Didn’t Want to Share
I’m told these are the stories we should be writing
Please read this with soft eyes.
Have you heard the saying that you are only as happy as your least happy child? I have never felt this to be true for me. But I understand it now.
The story began less than a week ago when I got a text from my youngest son, Edward*, asking if he could come over the next day to talk to me.
He asked if we could be alone.
He said he didn’t want to talk to his Dad, his brothers, or my husband Roger. Just me.
I knew something was wrong.
I woke early and made a safe space in the garden summerhouse. I took chairs, blankets, a heater, a Bluetooth speaker, candles, incense, and a big box of tissues. I wanted to be prepared for anything and everything.
When he arrived, I asked if he wanted a cup of tea.
“You know what I want, Mum,” he said.
And he fetched himself a bottle of cider. It was 9 am.
We sat in the summer house, and he told me he had been signed off work until Saturday because he had broken down in front of colleagues. Another friend had attempted suicide, and it…
