My heart has shattered many times and each time I have had to search deeper to put the pieces together, yet his mind has shattered too many times and recently it seems as though it takes too long to make him into an imitation of the person he used to be.  Tears flow as a meandering spring – tears that I wipe and dab at and  many times I say they are finally as dry as a fine piece of mud that has set in the scorching sun too long.  And when the wind comes so it blows the particles away, but that is what I would like to believe that my tears have finally disappeared evaporated into the wind – only they have not.

Each time he has a relapse it worst than the one before and it is very difficult when he can not acknowledge my presence – how I wish he could call out my name – say mom I need you, but he can’t.  I think what hurts the most is staring into his blank empty light brown eyes that are now so dark.  He is blinded by the world that evolves around him.  He has become a passive bystander that has lost his step in life and I am so angry at life and his fate.

A mother has a responsiblity to her child, it does not matter if he is five or thirty it never changes even with the passing of time.  The years have disappeared, he is no longer sixteen – he is now thirty-five, but all my wonderful memories are of a young, vibrant and loving son.  I think that is what sustains me in the difficult times that never cease to be – I think of the past and long desperately for that wonderful young man to appear again.

I close my eyes and daydream of him and I remember, yes I remember as he was before that horrible illness stole my son from me.  I think of all the many doctors, the different treatments, the many prayers and I wonder why?  Why has this horrible thief  taken my son’s mind and wiped his dreams into oblivion.  I have so much hatred in my heart – I hate the word schizophrenia.