“Because of Laradon, my son is home.”
Lisa says it quietly, tears filling her eyes as the words settle in the room.
Then she says what every parent hopes they will always be able to say.
“My son’s at home. That’s where he should be.”
In that moment, you understand the whole story.
You understand it in the way Lisa looks at her son, Justin. In the way she smiles when he interrupts with a joke. In the way she gently helps him find his words, then steps back so he can own them. In the way she remembers the hard parts of his journey and still speaks about him with a love that radiates.
Their home reflects that love. Family photos line the walls, sunlight pouring through windows, flowers bloom outside, and downstairs a permanent ice cream bar waits for celebrations and making ordinary days sweeter. Everywhere you look, the house says the same thing: this is a place where people are known, cherished, and deeply loved.
And then there is Justin’s room.
A pirate flag hangs proudly on the wall, surrounded by reminders of everything that makes him who he is—funny, imaginative, fiercely loyal, and endlessly curious. When asked if he would sail the seas for a year, he answered without hesitation.
“Part of the ship, part of the crew.”
The answer was a small window into something deeper: a young man who wants to belong, who protects the people he loves, who has weathered rough waters, and who still believes there is a world worth exploring.
This is the son Lisa loved through and through, including the chapter that began on October 15, 2024, when Justin moved into Laradon’s Calabrese Youth Center.
For Justin and Lisa, the CYC was never the end of the story. It was part of the path home.
The decision was heartbreaking, but Justin needed more support, structure, and safety than his family could provide alone. Lisa wanted a place that would truly see her son, help him grow, and prepare him to return home.
Laradon was that place.
While Justin lived at the CYC, Lisa remained a constant presence. She visited often, stayed connected, and made sure he remained connected to his siblings, his pets, and the life waiting for him at home.
At Laradon, Justin was surrounded by staff who understood that growth doesn’t happen overnight. They helped him build routines, practice coping skills, manage conflict, and learn how to keep himself safe. Just as importantly, they got to know Justin beyond his support needs, celebrating his humor, friendships, interests, and accomplishments.
One lesson from his time at the CYC means everything to Lisa.
“I learned to keep my body safe,” Justin said.
Lisa knows what those words really mean. They mean growth. They mean self-control. They mean courage. They mean the slow, steady work of becoming ready for home.
And then, on May 18, 2026, Justin came home. When he did, Lisa saw Justin in his entirety.
When Lisa looks at Justin, she sees a student still working on his goals, the employee building confidence through work, and the son who worked hard to come home.
When asked what he wants people to remember about his family, Justin’s answer was simple.
“I’m always there for them when they need help,” he said.
That is Justin: funny, loyal, protective, still growing, still learning, still dreaming.
Laradon didn’t erase the challenges his family faced, nor did it replace the love of his family. What it did was help build a bridge between a challenging time and stability, between uncertainty and hope, and ultimately between a pirate-themed bedroom waiting and a son returning home.
For Lisa, that is why support for Laradon matters.
“He is absolutely worth the investment,” she said. “And everybody who attends Laradon is worth the investment. It’s a big investment, and it’s 100% worth all of it.”
Because behind every service, every staff member, every hard day, every breakthrough, and every skill learned, there is a family hoping for what Lisa has now.
A morning with their child at home.
A pirate flag on the wall.
A future that feels possible again.
And a mother who can finally say:
