This is dark people. Very dark. And sad. And depressing. Just want to warn you.
I didn’t mean it to end up that way…actually, this piece took a turn I didn’t even see coming.
A single moment can change your life forever.
Before sending my son outside to play that morning, I remember thinking “It’s a beautiful day”.
Counting my blessings, I opened the door to the backyard and watched him run towards his swing set.
Dirty dishes sitting in the sink called my name, and I decided to take care of them before going out to join him.
Even from the kitchen window, I had a full view of the backyard, and I watched him play.
Feeling content, I settled into my chore.
Gates are supposed to protect little ones from wandering outside of the watchful eyes of their parents, not allow predators to come in and snatch them away from the only world that they know.
How I didn’t see him wander to the gate to talk to the man that the neighbor had saw him talking to I have no idea.
In the blink of an eye or the drying of a plate or the putting away of a cup, he was gone; I was right there at the window watching him play and enjoying the beautiful day and somehow missed it.
Just like that, my world was devastated, completely destroyed and no longer worth living in.
Knots of grief and anger now fill my heart and brain at all times.
Laughter is no longer part of who I am.
My thoughts are encapsulated into one solitary thought: him.
Nothing can fill the void of my son missing and then found dead.
Only darkness and death are my constant companions.
Pressure to “move on” because “time heals all wounds” is bullshit.
Questions…so many questions that will never be answered about who he might have been or what he might have accomplished.
Reasons of why I should just kill myself and be done with it; the number one reason being I wasn’t watching.
Seeing him run out the door over and over again, and not saying that I loved him one last time.
Turning away from the window for a split second….things that cannot be taken back, forgotten, forgiven.
Unable to come to terms with his death.
Vaguely aware of those around me: husband, family, friends offering their support and not just leaving me alone.
Wanting to die.
X marks the spot where there is a huge open gaping wound that my heart was ripped out of, never to be closed up.
Yesterday’s sweet memories consume my thoughts when death doesn’t (which is always).
Zest for life is gone, and I want to be gone too.
And so it goes…