“Not even yours.” That cut deeper than I expected. I realized then that what I’d called tough love had felt to him like being discarded. I sat with him in that shelter for hours.
We didn’t argue. We talked really talked for the first time in years. Daniel agreed to start counseling through the shelter’s outreach program.
I helped him apply for a job placement scheme and found him a small apartment I’d cover for three months just enough time for him to stand on his own. This time, the help came with clear boundaries and expectations. And as I drove home that night, I realized I wasn’t just giving him a place to stay.
I was giving him a chance to try again with both of us finally on the same page.
