We're home. Got back today - we were some of the lucky ones that COULD travel into New England despite the blizzard like weather.

For that, I am eternally grateful.

Cuz it was time to come home.

This past week in Florida was harder than I expected.

But not because of the company we kept.

We spent it surrounded by our family (my Dad, John's parents, John's brother and sister and his sister's crew. The rest of our family -my mom and her husband and my brother and his family could not come). There was 12 of us all together for 7 days...which was surprisingly easy to handle.

I love John's family a lot. My in-laws are wonderfully kind people. For the last 24 years, they have made me feel like I truly belonged.

John's brother Brian is one of the funniest people I know. He simply makes me smile. He has always been a fantastic uncle to both my boys. This week was no exception. He spent tons of time with Connor which is something I can never thank him enough for.

John's sister Jen is amazing. I find myself loving her more each time we get together. She loves her family wholeheartedly and generously extends that love to me. Jen adored CJ and the feeling was mutual. I think Jen misses my Shmoops as much as I do. I am so sad that he won't ever get to hang out with his cool aunt again.

And my Dad...well, he is just everything to me. Having him with us meant more to me than he can ever imagine. I only hope he knows how thankful I am that he agreed to come with us.

The people we were with made the week tolerable.

But it was still terribly hard. And horribly sad.

I cried.

We all cried.

There was just simply no way to forget why we were away.

CJ was in my every thought. I woke up thinking about him and I fell asleep thinking about him.

My heart hurt as I watched Connor do all kinds of things that he should have been doing with his big brother.

I saw CJ everywhere. And nowhere.

I carried his pictures down to Florida with me and propped them up in random places throughout the giant house we rented.

Sometimes, seeing his face made me smile. Sometimes, seeing his cheesy grin made my heart shatter into a million pieces.

I'm still not sure that running away from home was the right thing to do for Christmas.

But it was SOMETHING.

Right or wrong, it got us through one of the hardest days of my life.

My heart aches in a way that will never go away.

I miss my son so much.

Not sure how it's already been 8 months.

I miss you. Every second, every minute, every hour.

8 months ago today, you made a choice that forever changed our family.

My heartache will last a lifetime.

I had no idea you were in pain.

My first born son was hurting and I didn't know.

Sadness is our way of life now.

The first Christmas day without you.

To be followed by a lifetime of Christmas days without you.

No more bear hugs.

No more cheesy smiles.

I honestly don't know how we got where we are.

I hear you in every song.

CJ, I WOULD have layed down my life for you.



I would simply die a million painful deaths if I could just have you in my arms one more time.

Mom loves you Shmoops.

Forever.

Throughout this horribly painful and terribly sad period of our lives, we have been loved on and supported by people both near and far. Our family has been there every step of the way, walking the walk with us. They loved CJ tremendously and are hurting every bit as much as we are.

Our friends have hugged us, fed us, cried with us and held us up when the sheer weight of this tragedy threatened to crush us.

I know we have NOT adequately expressed our thanks to anyone...I'm not really sure there are words to do so. There is simply no way to tell people how much it means that they stood by you during the worst experience of your life.

What's even more difficult to express is the gratitude we feel for so many people, both those we know in real life and those we have not yet been blessed to meet in person, who continue to be there for us as these nightmarish months creep by.

CJ was half of our everything. He and Connor have filled our lives with joy for the better part of 20 years. To love them that long was a privilege. To know that we can no longer love CJ in his physical form destroys our hearts daily. We were just not prepared for that level of sadness. Our grief is all encompassing. It is not lessening with time. It is, in fact, growing more each day as we truly have to face our altered future.

We don't see an end to our pain. We honestly can't imagine a time when our emotions will be easier to handle. We are raw. And distraught. And fight each day to find a way to function.

That people continue to reach out to us when we have so little to offer in return, is nothing short of miraculous. It just is. We can barely take care of ourselves. Our energy level is low and our ability to be the friends we would like to be is just not there. We are shells of our former selves.

Yet people are still there. For us all. When we truly need it the most.

Whether it's an email sharing their story or offering us their prayers and strength to carry on, a phone call just to say hi, a visit (planned or spontaneous), something in the mail for Connor to let him know that he's NOT been forgotten or for John and I just to try to make us smile, or the offer of respite should we ever need it, their thoughtfulness literally brings us to tears. You just have no idea how powerful these "gifts" are. They mean more to us than anyone can possibly imagine.

And they are gifts in every sense of the word.

The literal value of them is not important.

What IS important is how they make us feel....LESS ALONE.

Cuz honestly? We've never felt more alone at any time in our lives.

Thank you from the bottom of our very broken hearts for being as wonderful as you are and for caring about our family.

Your kindness and generosity truly allows us to exist.

I can't stop playing the what if game. I wish I could.

I wish I could somehow believe that nothing I did or didn't do contributed to my beloved son's decision.

But that's just not happening.

And I'm not sure it ever will. I know people tell me that someday I will focus less on THE LAST FEW MOMENTS and more on the good memories and the happiness that was BEFORE. But honestly? I think that's pure BS.

I will NEVER stop thinking that I could have somehow stopped what happened. That had I hugged him and kissed him instead of arguing and yelling, that maybe just maybe he wouldn't have put that gun to his head.

Those that say without a doubt that what happened would have happened REGARDLESS of that fight, are basing that statement on nothing more than their beliefs.

NO ONE knows what MIGHT have happened had that last terrible fight not occurred.

NO ONE knows what MIGHT have played out had his mom simply grabbed him and said IT'S ALL GOING TO BE OK.

NO ONE knows what MIGHT have been on that awful day in April if I had remembered that even as his parent, I didn't necessarily know what's best for him.

Yes, the gun was in his car. And yes, he could have been planning to use it all along. But NO ONE truly knows if one single action, one simple word, one loving gesture from his mom ON THAT DAY, AT THAT MOMENT, could have made a difference.

This guilt is mine to own. Simply telling me not to feel it is not going to change it. I WAS HIS MOM. On the day he was born, I accepted the role of caretaker. And protector. And no matter what anyone else believes, I failed in those roles.

Kids DO make decisions that we as parents don't agree with. And like it or not, we have to learn to live with those decisions.

But when that decision is to end their life, no amount of time will ever grant me acceptance.

I lost the ability to trust in my parenting skills on April 14, 2010 when my first born ended his life.

I died a little inside on April 15, 2010 as I walked out of that hospital knowing that I would never see my son again.

Almost eight months later and I am still suffering a pain that is indescribable.

I never imagined it was possible to hurt this much.