Monday, November 24, 2014

Slogging through


Sometimes I’m fine and I can look at everything that’s happened with detached logic.  Sometimes I’m a blubbering mess. 

I miss my boy so much it hurts.  And not just the kid he was, I miss the adult he’ll never be. 

Sometimes I wish it was someone else’s kid.  I’d never wish this pain on anyone, but if I could go back and rearrange things, I’d make it someone else’s kid who did this so I could keep mine and watch from afar.  Yes, I’m that mean. 

In the end it is my kid and I can’t undo it.  So I slog through. 

Sometimes I’m fine.  Sometimes I’m a blubbering mess.

Wednesday, November 19, 2014

Three weeks


How can it be three weeks?
There are no answers.  He left no note, no explanation why that night was the one.  No idea what pushed him over the edge.  Things had been going well, or so it seemed.  In the end I’m left thinking I failed him as a parent.  He wasn’t comfortable coming to me with whatever it was that was torturing him.  It’s my job to make sure my kids are OK, that they’re safe.  I couldn’t protect him from himself.  I would have handcuffed myself to him if I had known I needed to.  I would have done most anything.  I want to reach back in time to the moment I last saw him alive.  I think about all the things I would have done and said.  And would it have helped?  Or would it just have put off the inevitable?  I’ll never know.  I only know that I feel like a failure.
Grief is a difficult process.  Grief layered with a sense of failure takes my breath away.

Wednesday, November 12, 2014

God wins


Two weeks ago today my 16 year old son took his own life.  Diagnosed with depression at the end of June and dead four months later.  We did everything we knew to do: started him on meds, took him to weekly sessions with a therapist, checked in with him regularly to see how he was doing, tried to respect his privacy, tried to let him know we loved him, prayed, prayed, prayed, worried ourselves sick.  In the end, it wasn’t enough.  I don’t understand depression.  I don’t understand how a well liked, good looking, academically successful, extracurricularly involved kid could believe whatever evil it was running around in his brain telling him he was stupid and worthless.  In the name of Jesus Christ I raise my fist against the evil that visited my house that night.  You are not welcome here.  And, besides, God wins in the end.  My boy is in the arms of his savior.  Go to hell.