Le Petit Prince

This entry is part 14 of 17 in the series Issue XII: Spring 2013 Prose

By Yvette Woodard

Unselfish little prince! That’s what his name means. Those three words were so true. This precious little boy was simply gorgeous and could have been on any Pampers commercial. He was the prince of my eyes, and everyone else’s also. First grandchild, first grandson, first nephew and, of course, the first child born to both his father and I. First child born to my family in years.

He became so precious and special to me. Even his father was jealous. Two birthday parties, two bikes, even two different outfits to wear with two different grandmothers. Plus a whole lotta love. No one, especially not me, could have ever thought this fairy tale would have such an ironic twist. If someone had told me of this story, I would have accused them of such a fabrication. This petit prince turned out to be living a whole different life.

The first twenty-four hours were the hardest for me: physically sick, sleepless nights, throwing up, crying—amongst other things. I was angry, mad at everything, every noise, everybody—except my petit prince. I never asked him why. Then I found support—the Osborne Association. Thank God!

Well, he’ll be twenty-six years old in December, now able to fend for himself. I’m quite sure he has gotten acclimated to his new life.

Although I still struggle, get melancholy at times, especially from the month of November to January 1st, I must say it, it’s gotten better. But it’s still hard when I see his friends, and they have all grown up and are making great strides in their lives. Watching the news and certain TV shows are still very scary to me. It will never be easy.

But when I think about this whole situation it makes me realize just how drastic this ending could have been. Even tragic!

It’s been tough for me. Even harder for him being on the inside. Especially having nine years stolen from his life. Nine years stolen from mine as well. But it will all be over soon. Five more years. That’s not too bad.

Forgotten—never! Remembered—always. He will be home again!

Time passes fast—but very slowly. I miss you, son, Ryan La Mar—unselfish little king. My petit prince.

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