As the week touches Thursday it will be a week since i have seen my son.
The son that i never expected, but had loved him with all my soul.
Panchinko..
Just last year, his brother; Gringo passed away from a fox attack and now pachinko...
Pachinko.. i've prayed every night and cried countless of times to hope you return home safely but the fact that i DON'T know how you're doing and what happened to you is eating me up whole. I've prayed every night but it seems god likes to play with my subconscious and make me dream about your safety and how you come home looking all fresh and happy but when i wake up all i feel is pain and uncertainty. Is this a way god is telling me that you ARE alright and at home. My parents seem to take it rather lightly whilst i'm banging my head against the wall to take my mind off of you just for 1 small second but i can't...
They don't seem to see the pain and suffering i'm going through not knowing my son is safe or not. They just think that you are just a cat... but you're not... you're my son...
Where'd you go? Come home...Please.....
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