It hit me earlier today... the guilt and anger and loss... and I had to go out to the garage to cry for awhile. But crying for Ian is more like dry heaves.. the reflexive action of a body empty of everything but still unable to recover. I wonder if I will ever have tears again. Life is calmer for the five of us without him living here. It's so obvious that we are doing what is best for Zane, Taylor and Delaney... and when I doubt it I have a few counselors I can call who will remind me why this decision was made. But giving Ian the freedom he was fighting for meant giving up the child we were fighting to save.
I don't know where Ian is tonight. Maybe he will call me tomorrow but I don't think he will. We talked with his former roommates Sunday and it sounds like he is out of control. They had good reasons to ask him to leave but felt he had manipulated the situation to make it look as though they had thrown him out for insignificant reasons. It was sad talking with them. They know well the danger he is putting himself in but they can't risk their own sobriety to save him.
Where do you draw the line? How much should you do to save someone who doesn't want help? I don't know. What I do know is that there are three children laughing down the hall who didn't laugh much a year ago. They are my reason for going on when I think I can't.