Life after loss

It’s been 15 days. My world has stood still for 15 days. My son, Sam, chose to leave this world 15 days ago. His family; his dogs; his friends ….. he chose to leave us all. He was 31 years old. He is my third born of four.

I feel no anger … just a deep and profound grief that knaws away at my very existence every waking second. I miss him.

We buried him a week ago today. What a beautiful funeral. I know he would have scratched his head in amazement at such a turn out : full military funeral complete with an honour guard. At the end of his life, he felt such little self worth that this funeral would have made him look on in awe. I’m sure he was impressed. And I know he was there.

I’ve decided to write about this, while my grief is so raw. Perhaps it will help me through these darkest of days. It’s , I guess, a very public way of grieving. Maybe it will find its way into the hearts of others who are facing this same bleak reality. Maybe it will help someone who is standing on the edge, to step back on the safe side, to rethink.

“They” say that suicide is an act of cowardice. Who ever “they” are, well : I wish to congratulate them for having such a perfect life that they never had to face the kind of pain and anguish that one faces when they decide to leave this world by their own choice. Yay you. But the one thing I will agree with the “they say” group is this : when you end your own pain, you pass it on to those who love you, and who you loved.

This is the worst kind of grief.

Today is day 15. I can’t seem to get out of bed today. I don’t want to. In some moments, when I break down in the kind of body ravaging sobs that I seem to succumb to….I find myself hoping that in those moments that I can’t seem to catch my breath: that I won’t catch it. And I won’t have to grieve anymore.

But of course, I still have my three other children to think of. They are hurting too. They lost their brother. Their lives are also upside down.

I just got back from a walk with my partner. He never had the chance to meet Sam. But he spoke with him over the past two years often on the phone. He is angry. We ended up arguing on the walk. I understand his anger. But I fear that his lack of compassion and understand could cost us this relationship. At least that is how it feels right now. He doesn’t know my grief. He has lost both of his parents, grandparents, uncles, a friend…. but he has no comprehension on what it is like to lose a child. I feel like he thinks I should snap out of my grief and go back to being who I was before I lost my son. It’s been two weeks. I don’t know if the person who I was can ever come back to be honest.