CMO 075: Letting Go!

 

Today is Good Friday, a day meant to honor the Lord and the profound sacrifice He made for us out of love. Though I wished for Him to be the center of my focus today, my attention was diverted by the relentless voices that torment my son, who was diagnosed with schizophrenia in June 2024.

As we approach the one-year mark, I reflect on the arduous journey we've undertaken since that time. I can't recall the exact number of visits we've made to the emergency room at St. John/Ascension Hospital in Broken Arrow; it was frequent enough that the staff began to recognize us.

In addition to the emergency room visits, there have been appointments with the dentist, the eye doctor (where I endured food poisoning), his primary doctor, the urologist (for kidney stones), a schizophrenic therapist, a behavioral center, numerous trips to the Crisis Care Center, Family and Children's Services, the Pact Team, and a great deal of demanding home care.

I can't even fathom how taxing this has been for my son. My heart aches watching him grapple with a mental disorder, particularly one that remains enigmatic to professionals.

To those dedicated professionals who have worked with my son from the outset, I express my sincere gratitude. While I cannot account for all their actions or those who interacted with my son beyond my supervision, I must acknowledge their professionalism, compassion, and support.

Despite the voices, medical procedures, visits, and surgeries, my son has shown remarkable resilience. He has often responded to the professionals with politeness, humor, and kindness, demonstrating his strength through adversity.

While waiting to be seen at Family and Children's Services, despite the tormenting voices and his own trauma, my son could only focus on the suffering of others present that day due to mental illness. His empathy for those patients was profound, even as he battled his own challenges.

If only we could all embody such compassion.

On this solemn day of the Lord's Crucifixion, I write about my son because I believe the time has come to consider a "group home" for him. I must determine if he would fare better there than at home with relatives when I am no longer in this world.

I don't want to let go. I dread the thought of losing my son to strangers. Yet, I understand that he needs to experience the real world, surrounded by others striving to improve their lives, rather than remaining in a situation that may not be beneficial for either him or his devoted caregivers.

This is where faith and trust in Christ come into play, not just in words, but in actions. On this "Good Friday" and the first day of the "Divine Mercy Novena," I am entrusting my son to Him, believing that His will is always greater than mine.

Jesus, I Trust In You!