I Prayed for a Miracle—Now I Lock My Door at Night

“I can’t handle it,” I said, and my voice came out sharper than I intended. “I can’t. I’m breaking.”

Her cheeks flushed.

She glanced around like she wanted an exit.

“Well,” she said stiffly, “you just have to keep the faith. He’s your son.”

He’s your son.

Like that ends the conversation.

Like that’s the only fact that matters.

I wanted to scream.

Instead, continue reading …