No parent likes to see their child hurting and I’m no exception to that. My heart aches for Joe and I wish I could do something, anything, to take the pain and misery away from him. But I can’t. All I can do is hold him while he grieves. Let him know that he’s not alone. Eventually, he’ll want to talk. Time then to offer words of comfort, of understanding and consolation.

She was a beautiful girl, there’s no denying that. Joe fell for her hard and decided he loved her before the week was out. He treated her like a princess and she … treated him like a slave. She had outer beauty alright, but her heart was rotten to the core.

I tried to be happy for him. Tried to convince myself that once she had a ring on her finger she’d mend her ways. At least that’s one thing to be thankful for. It never got as far as the wedding.

Should I have told him? Let him know that his precious love was running around on him? Taking him for a fool. Would he have believed me if I had? Truth is, I had no proof. Just overheard conversations and an innate dislike of the girl.

And, as I hold Joe now, trying wordlessly to offer comfort, I can’t help feeling guilty. For, despite my sorrow for my son, I’m glad. Glad she’s gone. Glad she won’t hurt him any more. I’ll never let him see it, but I’m a happy man.