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Last night we met my youngest child, Richard at a local restaurant to celebrate his 22nd birthday. We spent a couple hours with him, his girlfriend Kim, their daughter Lily, their son Lucas and a couple of his friends.  

It is the first time I had spent any time with him for about 2 year I guess, other than when he drops off the children for us to babysit, and we take them as often as we can for their sake. I do not approve of his lifestyle, we will not even visit him at his home. I cannot go into any more detail publicly, but if you knew, you would agree.  

I am in no condition to take custody of my grandchildren, but  the foster care system here is TERRIBLE, so I would never subject them to it. If it came down to it, I would take my grand babies and get them to a good couple who are friends of ours.  

So in addition to missing my children, I am dealing with this. You go from a house full of kids, in my case it was the football team, the track team, the wrestling team, members who were friends of my boy to the neighborhood little ones he was carrying around on his shoulders almost constantly.

My son has always been intelligent. He always brought home good grades, until he decided simply NOT to go to school and that day when he was 17 when I found the crack pipe in his backpack. My world fell apart that day. I called the police myself and put him in rehab...and he never came back home. He HATED me. I will always love him, just not what he does.

but...

 I would rather he hate me than for me to have to go to the morgue and identify him (and my tears begin to fall).



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