Okay to Never Be Okay

I don’t even know where to begin.

At this moment the fog is so dense and heavy.  It almost feels impossible to breath.  The pain is unbearable.  Like someone is either repeatedly kicking me in the stomach or a bowling ball is being dropped into my gut. I want to sleep, but can’t.  The mornings are dreadful.  I’m grateful for the 10 seconds when things don’t seem too bad and then I remember.  I remember that 6 weeks ago, my 25-year-old son ended his life.  

Life is completely different.  Nothing about myself seems the same. I am forever changed.  And I know it’s not in a good way.  I want answers that I will never receive in this lifetime.  Yes, through my faith I know I will see him again, but right now that isn’t good enough.  I want to see him now.  I want to ask him how life failed him . . . how I failed him.  Ask him what he was thinking in those 2-3 seconds that took him away.  Was he thinking at all?  I hope he wasn’t. I hope some dark force deprived him of not only his good judgment but knowing how much I love him, how much his wife loves him, his father, his brothers, his sister-in-laws, his nephews, grandmothers, aunts, uncles, cousins and friends.

Seconds run into minutes that run into hours that run into days. Every day it becomes more real that he is no longer with us. My mind and my heart can’t comprehend it.  How I am supposed to live without my child? At times I don’t want to. I want the pain to end, but I know in doing that I will only cause more pain in others’ lives. I won’t do that. I must find a way to move forward with this devastating hole in my heart. 

Moving forward seems like forgetting him.  I won’t ever forget him, so I will hold onto my grief.  Grief that seems unbearable, devastating, sad and hopeless. Maybe someday it won’t always feel so sad.  Maybe someday I’ll carry my grief in a way that pays honor to the amazing person he is.  But I will always carry it.  

I don’t want to be helped, cured, fixed or cheered up.  It is okay that I will never be okay…… with losing my amazing, caring, loyal, friendly, ebullient Ben.