He may not be on our derech — but he still needs someone to believe in him

It’s not really fair to expect people to read my mind, but I’m starting to get a little snippy when someone asks about my son with too much sympathy in their voice. So let me just put this out there — I’m proud of all of my children, and I don’t appreciate it when people act like any one of them is a tragedy.

But since this is a To Be Honest, I’ll be honest. A few years ago, my response to this question was a wee bit different. When a friend who knew my son had been weakening in his Yiddishkeit asked me — with warmth and concern — how’s Shlomo* doing, I responded by bursting into tears.

There were no feelings of nachas there, just searing pain.

When I saw my son slowly wander out of the box I’d carefully constructed for him, I was devastated. This wasn’t what I wanted for any of my children. I raised them with the values I thought were true — reflecting a love of Hashem and attachment to Torah — and things didn’t turn out the way I dreamed they would. I worried about the future. How much worse could he get? What if he didn’t come back? My other children still needed a mother, so I couldn’t exactly stop living, but that’s exactly what I wanted to do.