Ken Guidroz will be a special speaker at the Life After Loss Virtual Retreat. He's going to share his wisdom and experiences with us. You won't want to miss it!
https://celebratelegacy.net/retreat
In my recent podcast episode of "Letters to My Son in Prison," I had the honor of talking with Ken Guidroz about a remarkable story of forgiveness. This conversation was truly special, as Ken told me about how he and his son found forgiveness after a very serious mistake.
During our talk, there was a moment that stood out. Ken mentioned someone saying, "I just couldn't live with myself if something happened to him." These words were like a secret signal, and they stopped the conversation in its tracks.
In this podcast episode, we dive into Ken's story and how he and his son went through a tough journey to find forgiveness. It's a story about healing and the powerful love between a father and son. Join me as we explore this emotional and inspiring journey.
Ken Guidroz will be a special speaker at the Life After Loss Virtual Retreat. He's going to share his wisdom and experiences with us. You won't want to miss it!
https://celebratelegacy.net/retreat
PROLOGUE
I did not want my son to move back home.
Lucas had hit another rough patch. He’d lost another job, gotten kicked out of his girlfriend’s apartment, and was ghosting his AA sponsor. Now he needed a place to stay, so the texts to his mother started dinging like the service bell at lunchtime at Jerry’s Deli. He was twenty-seven.
“Nope, I don’t think we should let him move back in,” I told my wife, Joyce. Then her phone dinged again.
Ha! He sure ain’t gonna text me, I thought. He remembers my little ditty:
“No mon, no fun, your son. How sad, too bad, your dad.”
I knew how this move back home would unfold. He’d play the game for a few days—get up on time, help around the house, and look for a job—but soon enough his bedroom door would be closed until ten in the morning, and the knobs on his video controller would be rubbed to a shine. Then the crumbs would appear—oh, those crumbs. I’d see them on the white-tiled kitchen counter—crumbs that a normal, sober, trying-to-go-unnoticed, trying-not-to-get-kicked-out-ofyour-parents’-home young man would never leave so mockingly visible.
Joyce, with her mama bear in full swing, said, “I know…it’s not perfect. But what’s he gonna do? Where’s he gonna stay?”
I thought, It’s not our job to figure out where our twenty-seven-year-old son stays.
Then, as if she’d read my mind, she said, “What if we lay things out super clear? Like when he has to be home and has to have a job by, and that we’ll do random drug tests.”
“And I become the bad cop?” I whined. “No way. I can’t do that again, honey. I’m the one stuck here all day and you get to go to your job at school. I’m the one who’s gonna see his slide. I’m the one who’s gonna hear those ridiculous excuses. And I’m the one who’s gonna have to endure those wretched crumbs on the counter.”
Joyce ran her fingers over the worn grooves of our distressed-oak kitchen table.
“If we’re not careful,” I said softly, “he’s gonna drag us down with him.”
Even as I said it, though, I knew that “us” was not the real concern here. Joyce wasn’t concerned about “us” and, honestly, neither was I. In thirty-plus years of marriage, we had never uttered the D-word, or even contemplated it. But this was a new level. Losing a son to opioids tested us like nothing ever had. We’d started doubting each other, snapping at each other, and misreading intentions. She’d lend him some money and I’d say, “You’re enabling.” I’d turn away from a need and she’d say, “You’re too removed.”
https://kenguidroz.com/letters-to-my-son/
Ken Guidroz will be a special speaker at the Life After Loss Virtual Retreat. He's going to share his wisdom and experiences with us. You won't want to miss it!
