Who wants to hear about it?
Listen to me complain again.
Listen to me whine about my life.
My life that’s in complete and utter tattered chaos. Nothing left untouched. Every bit of my heart torn to shreds.
My health. My heart. My baby.
All taken from me.
My baby. My boy.
But who wants to listen to this anymore? What a downer I must be. Everything in my life is a complete wreck. How can I recover from this? The loss of my one and only son? I can’t even talk about it, it’s too fresh. It’s too much. He’s gone, and each day he’s gone even longer, and my heart breaks even more.
But I can’t talk about it. I can’t vent. I can’t express my pain every day to the masses. I can’t scream it to the world and cry dramatically into my bedsheets. It’s just not how my real life works. My kids would shit themselves.
There’s nothing that can fix this. Nothing that can undo all the damage to my life, to my family. He’s not returning this time. He can’t come back again. He’s gone away forever, and God dammit, I’m agnostic. I have no idea where he went or what happened to his soul. His soul I mostly believe in. Kinda. Maybe?
I don’t even know. But sometimes I feel him near me. With me. For no real reason at all. Nothing special and I didn’t call. I can’t say I am a solid believer in anything, but I can say that my son has died, but there’s a part of him here with me.
I miss my boy fiercely. Every second of every day.
But I can’t talk about it. I can’t just let it out. Vent about it. It’ll be ok either way, but maybe one day I’ll find a way out of my own bubble. Out of social stances and strange boundaries humans form. Myself included.
This week was so hard. It was the one month anniversary of my son’s death. He was only 14years old. The was a terrible accident, and he was killed. March 26th at 7:01am.
I will never ever get over this. And he’ll always be all I ever want to talk about, and the only subject I want to avoid. It’s so hard to be in this place.