I tried. I really did. I went through the holidays. I wrapped the presents. I decorated the tree. I pretended to hang the stockings with cheer. I said, "Happy New Year"...I even made some lame valentines and mailed them. But it isn't the same. It still stinks. I am still lonely and empty and without you. People have for gotten. Most people have forgotten. But I- I cannot. I am dying. I am a lost Momma cat searching for my kitten that someone stole to give to a new home. And like her, I meow and search everyday for him and he is gone. WHY! for what purpose? I do not know. I do not understand. I search and I search. I wake up everyday and open my eyes and hope...just hope that this has been one long butted dream that really stunk. But it is not. This is my life. And no matter how many times they make me laugh, or make me proud, or even make me angry, they cannot fill the void.
People lie. They say it gets better, it gets easier with time. But it does not. It just gets more tolerable. I tolerate this mess called suicide. I tolerate the empty face on my wall, the stone I visit in tears, the looks of pity. I tolerate the "what ifs" and the "whys", but I do not want to. I still want to throw myself on the ground and throw a fit in my "mary janes" and my "pinafore dress" and scream, "WHY, why him, why me, why us?" But noone answers. Because noone knows. I do not even think Jeff knew.
And I tried. Tried so hard to make him happy. So hard to be the Momma that he did not get. Tried so hard to evercome the hurt and pain. But it didn't work, because in the end, I had to make a choice to allow him to be a never ending, hurtful jerk to all of us or let him leave. So I let him leave. And I became the bad guy- to him, his friends, his adult helpers, to anyone who bought his stories.
But, I never stopped loving him, never stopped calling. Never stopped praying he be the man that God intended him to be. But it did me no good.
Yes, he finally came home to me- to us. He gave us a beloved week. he held my chin in his hands and told me to "believe that he loved me"...he said it over and over. And I believed it. I believed it. I REALLY BELIEVED IT....but I do not know if I believe it now.
I see Katce crying over him, and I cannot believe the overwelming hurt that this has caused. I cannot believe that even after a move, I am still picking up the pieces to my heart. I cannot get it together. I forget sometimes that they look to me for guidance because, "Hell, I got no clue either"...I do not know how to get through this.
I see his car on that misty morning, I see my sister telling me its too late. I see her look at me in unbelief. I see the blood. The gun. I feel my knuckles tighten as I try to get into the car. I fall to my knees and screams, "Dear God...NO!" and I die...in that moment, I die too. And this past year of pain, guilt, hurt, and anger begins and never ever stops.
Find solace. Find God. In bits and pieces. Get it together. But there is a kitten gone. I cannot pet him anymore. And so I mourn again and again and I beg for someone anyone to hear and help me. But they do not. They go on with their lives and want me to too....
But what I want...I want to imagine he is still here in my arms and Katce is laying on him and I am stroking his head. I want to imagine he is trying to hit me or yell at me or even tell me he hates me because that would be better than this. But I cannot because I am the Mother....and I have to be strong...well not today...not today... today I am just gonna cry....
