But because I no longer trusted him to separate my interests from his financial desperation.
My niece Caroline became my healthcare proxy, with professional assistance for financial matters.
Three days later, Tommy called.
I let it go to voicemail.
“Mom, please call me. I need to explain.”
I did not answer.
A week later, I decided I did not want attorneys handling every emotional conversation between us.
He was still my son.
But boundaries had to change.
I texted him:
“You may call Sunday at four. Do not come to my house unless I invite you.”
He replied simply:
“Okay.”
Sunday afternoon, the phone rang.
“Mom.”
His voice cracked.
“I’m sorry.”
I remained silent.
Then I asked, “For what?”
There was a long pause.
“For stealing from you.”
I waited.
“For letting you think you were forgetting things.”
My eyes filled with tears.
“For planning everything around your trip.”
