I told my son not to come home

Dear Delyara, My son called me two years ago after leaving rehab for the third time. He asked whether he could stay with me. I told him no. I said I loved him but could not let his addiction enter my house again. He begged. I heard rain behind his voice and asked whether he had somewhere safe to go. He said he would figure it out. He died from an overdose that night in a motel room. Everyone tells me I set a necessary boundary and that I did not cause his death. I have repeated those sentences in support groups until they sound like lines from someone else’s life. The last thing my child heard from me was that he could not come home. I keep imagining an alternate night where I let him sleep on the couch, take his shoes, call the treatment center, sit beside him until morning. Perhaps he still would have died later. Perhaps not. Regret does not care about probability. It builds a complete world from one decision and forces you to visit it every night.