Can't stop thinking that although life is hard, it can get way harder....for no reason.
Out of the blue, I find myself distraught all over again. The last 2 weeks have been really hard. And I'm not sure why.
CJ is still gone. He hasn't come back. He hasn't shot himself all over again. He's as dead and gone as he was almost 19 months ago.
Yet, his loss is as fresh as it was then. It really is. (Don't blame you if you don't believe that. Seems impossible even to me.)
I can be thinking, "what's for dinner" or "I really need to call Kimmy" one second then SEE the shattered glass of his car window, HEAR me screaming over and over, SMELL the antiseptic stench of his hospital room as if it's happening all over again.
And if I can't stop the onslaught of memories, I end up fixated on those last moments.
The last words we spoke. The last argument. The look on his face as he ran out of the house.
His swollen head.
His poor swollen head.
Bandaged. Bleeding. Enormous.
Touching his prickly military haircut.
Kissing his head...carefully. Trying not to hurt him with my kiss. How the hell could I hurt him anymore than he already was?
Holding his hand in mine.
Saying goodbye to my son.
I. Had. To. Say. Goodbye. To. My. Son.
Because. He. Ended. His. Life.
With. A. Gun. To. His. Head.
I'm drowning slowly.
Pain....an endless ocean.
Grief....one hell of an undertow.
