I’m a mother of four, wonderful grown children. But one is gone now. Although I’m still a mom of four … the balance is off. Who am I even? I love my 3 living children, but what good am I as a mother when I am broken? I find myself not wanting to face the grim reality of a world without Sam. I find myself praying daily, for a short life. I’m between two worlds , drifting in and out of each…
I used to eat moderately healthy. I used to do yoga regularly. I used to walk. Now I eat candy : a lot of candy. Caramels for lunch. Molasses candy for dinner. I just don’t care anymore. I haven’t done yoga but for twice in the month since he decided to go. I pop pills – not caring if you shouldn’t mix lorazapam and Ativan and wellbuterin and Tylenol and advil – let’s throw in a edible into the mix. Why not. I just don’t care.
I cry. Alot.
They say that when you commit suicide, you just pass your pain on to those who love you. And it’s so true. I’m not mad at my son. I’ll carry the burden for him if it lifts him up. But I really wish he had just called me to talk that night. Or decided to sleep on it until morning. Because maybe he would still be alive. Or maybe he wouldn’t.
But now, I look for signs everywhere I go, in hopes that he will send me something to hold onto. I say goodnight, and I love you to a picture. My son is the first thing on my mind in the morning, and the last thing on my night before I sleep. If I sleep. So what about my other children? They lost their brother. And, they lost their mother pretty much as well.