Five Stages of Receiving Bad News

I awoke this morning to a rather shocking epiphany, prompted by the knowledge that Former Recruit^tm gets his discharge today, and will be making his way back to the family nest. I was struck, suddenly, with the realisation that I had, like a monkey, speared myself with every one of the Five Stages of Grief over his premature departure - in order, too. Surprised me so because I never did that while, you know, actually grieving - whether firstborn, firstwife, father, anyone. I'd always kind of jumped immediately into "5. Acceptance", the final stage, with occasional mild flourishes of "2. Anger"

It leads me to wonder just how much I had subconsciously vested in his doing something, finally, that would turn him around, bring him to life? We'll see. Only sure thing now is that things will not be allowed to revert to their former state. He's welcome back, but on our terms this time. Emancipation, after all, is a two-way street.