Life Turns Grey
Four years ago, my second oldest son died of complications of electrocution. He had gotten his life straightened around after years of wandering roads that led nowhere fast. I was devastated, even more so when no one filled in his grave. A friend and I actually buried my son. It is a final service to him that I didn't object to doing at all, but didn't realize how traumatic it really was. Last week, my oldest son slipped in his bathroom, hit his head on the wall opposite the tub, knocked out and drowned. I don't know how to get through this. The part of me that controls my breathing seems to be broken, I feel like I am in some sort of vacuum, or an abyss of some sort that is grim and dreadful. I can't function. I don't know what to do, or what to say to people. Curiously, when well-meaning people say "they are in a better place now" I want to punch them in the face, or I smile and listen to them talk about their great aunt Adele who was 86 with Alzheimers who wandered away , fell and hit her head and died. Something is broken in me now because I don't care who else died, I don't care if they are grieving, and that isn't me. I used to care very much. Now I want them to just go away. Losing a child is so very different than losing a mother or father(been there), grandparents, etc. Although grief is grief, I just can't handle anyone else's now because the grief of losing a child is different, like it alters your DNA or something. I feel broken, alone, scared, sick. My son, who just died, was cremated and it was so hard to know that this body I had given birth to, known, fed, laughed and cried with, nurtured all those years was being incinerated. I'm so lost.