After 3 decades of loving them and sacrificing to make their lives better, my 4 children do not speak to me. They do not like my politics or share my faith. I did not hear from them on Father’s Day, Thanksgiving, or Christmas.

I was hurt beyond words.

They have joined the mob that attacks me.

I still love them. I am always ready to forgive them. They are my children.

I have not seen my grandson who is named after me in a year when I saw him on his first birthday. He turned 2 a few days ago. I am not sure if I will ever have the joy of seeing him or holding him again. But his image