A Jumbled Mass of Emotions

My friend. I see you and what you are going through and I want to say that I am so terribly sorry. It’s only been a few days and I feel that you must be getting tired of hearing that. I don’t want to frustrate you or cause you any pain but I need to say a few things in order to get on with my own existence after something like this. Before I get too far though, I just want to let you know that I don’t know what is going to come down from my brain and into my fingers and I hope I don’t make you sad with what comes out with my words.

This sucks. It just does. I heard the news and my heart broke instantly. For you. For your son. For your family. All I could think of was my friend and how, if there was anyone in the world who shouldn’t have to go through this, it was you. Now I know that you know that I don’t believe anyone should have to go through such a thing, but I know you and your life and your dedication to your family. It just wasn’t believable and it totally and completely sucked.

I didn’t know him well. Hell, I didn’t know him much at all–personally. But I practically knew more about him than I did my own son. The trips to the lake, the band experiences, the family gatherings–the joy. You shared them with the world every day and because of that I feel like I have lost someone that was integral to my life. I see you struggling to keep his memory alive and sharing everything you can about him now that he is no longer beside you. Every time I even think about it I want to break something and scream as loud as I can.

You are so strong and brave and I really, really admire that. I don’t know if you believe those things about yourself, but it shines through with every action you have made since this awful thing happened. You must be so tired. It’s probably not easy to hear that you’re so strong when you didn’t have the choice to be strong. It just came to you. It’s just what you have to do. For yourself and for your family. Getting through life right now must seem insurmountable, but I know that you are more than capable of putting one foot in front of the other and pulling yourself out of the darkness.

I know that you have a strong faith and that you are waiting to meet up with him again someday. I hope that it happens for you. I hope that there will be a great reunion and that you will be able to squeeze him so tightly and tell him again how much you love him. But (and I  hope I don’t sound terrible when I say this) I want it to be a long time from now. I want you to be able to smile and enjoy your family again here and elevate your life back to love and happiness and joy. He won’t be with you, but he will be with you. I really, really believe that. I hope that you feel him often and that he brings some deeply needed comfort to your soul.

It’s hard to think about your boys and how they must be feeling right now. I hope that the love and kindness they are getting from their people is enough to get them through these days. Your family has put together such a great support system that I know that they are being as comforted as they can possibly be. But I know there is a hole now, and it’s not going to be easy for them. I just hope that they can remember the great times, laugh at the bad times, and hold on to the love for their brother for the rest of their lives. I want to hug and kiss them both, but I think we both know that they might not be too receptive to such a thing from such a relative stranger. I’ll just have to do that the next time I see you. You can pass it on for me.

I have no idea what your husband might be thinking right now. I sense that he is internalizing everything and that he feels he needs to be your rock. I know that you will be his. I hope you have your moments together and that you can cling to each other when the awful thoughts hit you out of the blue and threaten to bring you to your knees. I know that you both are so strong together and that you will make it a point to include your son and his memory in everything you do for the rest of your lives. He won’t be with you, but he will be with you.

My friend, the last time we saw each other you were comforting me. Life just has a terrible way to lulling along when it attacks you out of the blue. Your love and gentleness helped me to get past a traumatic incident and I wish I could do the same for you. I don’t know when I will be able to take my moment to hug you and give you my strength but it will happen and I hope it helps. You have so many people around you now it must be a complete blur. Things will start to calm down and it will be sad seeing life go on as normal for everyone else while your life is forever changed. But you can do it. You will do it. And when things start to find a steady rhythm again, and you find a smile once or twice during the day, and you can think of your beautiful son without crying, I will be there to give you another hug. And then another.

The terribleness that you are going through has ripped me to my soul and has opened me up to the realities of having a child that is on the cusp of learning how to function on his own in the world. I know that I will have to let him go out on his own and let him be his own person but because of your tragedy I am good and terrified. Your boy was out being himself and doing his own life when this awful thing happened. I am so happy that he was able to be that person and yet I am so sad that his time was cut short. It sucks. It just does.

Please keep sharing your pictures and videos and stories. Please. Feel free to talk about him and let the world know how absolutely precious he was (is) to you. Let the world know that a beautiful bright star was on this planet for a short while and that he made an impact. To his friends. To his family. To the world. None of us want to forget. Please don’t let us. Hug your boys tight and continue being the wonderful woman and mom that we all know you are. Be sad. Be mad. Be angry. Be hopeful. Be lost. Be strong. Just be. You can do this. I love you.

©DRB 2016

photo: media-hearth.cursecdn.com

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