This year has been an extremely difficult one for me. My 13 year-old son, the love of my life, returning from a summer visit with his father, announced to me that he wanted to go and live with him at the end of the school year. He said this with no anger, no malice, no hurtfulness. He reassured me that he loved me, that he knew I loved him , that no-one knew his heart better, and that the lessons I had taught him would carry him through this monumental transition. I was not as composed. Panic, fear, loss, grief, anger, sadness, resentment, desperation. It felt like I was drowning while everyone around me was watching, helplessly.

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