I just posted something I wrote in May. It's so full of angst and stress, but oh, how I want that week back.
My son died in a car accident last week. My beautiful, talented, wonderful son is gone. And the storm in me far outweighs the hurricanes churning toward us.
Life is so precious, so fragile, and all I want is to roll back the hands of time. Instead, there are legal matters and personal matters to deal with. Moving the things I so lovingly and excitedly bought out of the dorm. Dealing with insurance and police. Dealing with the tremendous outpouring of grief from school and our small community. Dealing with my own immense, unmanageable, almost unbearable anguish.
My husband has been great, and my parents and my sister-in-law. I can't think of anything for the services, not one detail, except one song. I went to work one day, because it helped me and I believe it helped the other kids. But, as terrible as it sounds, I am glad for the storms, for the chance to rage with the winds. His middle name meant wind.... and he was that: often full of passionate intensity, with the capacity for gentleness, unfailingly polite (not always at home, mind you - the boy could belch louder than you'd imagine and he loved to stir us up at the dinner table, but only at home).
I miss him. I am broken and will never be completely mended.
