The tears on my cheeks sting and taste salty. The pain in my heart is making my stomach churn. My eyes are so red and puffy that the light makes me squint. The ache in my head makes me tired. I want to sleep but I can’t. There are just no words that can truly describe the utter emptiness and anguish I am feeling at this moment.
It’s now exactly 24 hours from the moment I held his beautiful little head in my hands while he drifted into eternal sleep. When he looked at me one last time, I saw the love and understanding. He was calm and his breathing was now easy; the oxygen had eased that stress.
I gently kissed the top of his head and whispered in his ear. At that very moment it was only him and me in the entire world.
But I wanted to scream, to fight, to do anything to make this all go away so I could have my boy back; whole, healthy, happy. How unfair is this? It’s too soon. All I want to do is make some kind of deal. Or wake up to find it was just a bad dream.
Now, 24 hours later, my tears are flowing just as hard as they were then. There seems to be no end.
I’m so afraid I’ll forget all that made my boy so special. He was precious from the very first. Big, bright brown eyes, the happiest disposition, the quirkiest ways. My mind keeps racing to remember pictures, sounds, the happiest of times. I stare into emptiness with unseeing eyes, and unthinking mind – dazed.
Words of sympathy are expressed by so many, and each sentiment sends me to another round of sobs. Another low. More disbelief.
Thoughts of regret start creeping in. I should have this, I could have that, why didn’t I something or other? The only thing I know for sure is that I couldn’t have loved him any more than I did.
They say time heals all. But I’m not sure I even want to think about healing just yet. At this very moment, I want to languish in my sorrow, my loss, my ache. I want to grieve for the boy I have loved for 14 years. The boy who was as close to any child I could have ever had. The boy who made my heart sing.
For now, I just want to cry.
Sleep easy my Prince.