Greetings to all. I have posted before. I lost my twenty-one-year-old son to a tragic motorcycle accident/murder. I am really beating myself up over this. I have had thoughts of suicide, but I would never want to cause my family any more pain. I pretty much like to be by myself. I get upset if someone asks me how I’m doing when the answer should be obvious. I know that people mean well; I prefer for them to just tell me that they are sorry for the pain I’m in. I wish they would ask me what did I do today or what are my plans for the day, instead of asking me, “How are you?” when they call me on the phone.
I avoid most of my family and friends when they call because when I do speak to them, they will say, “How are you?” and I answer, “Not good,” and they will tell me, “How come, what’s the matter?” I take it as being very insensitive, even though they probably don’t mean it that way. It’s like I try extra hard not to have a “good time” or do things I use to like to do because I feel like my son is saying, “Mom, what are you doing? You are not thinking of me. Hey mom, I’m the one that has passed on.” It may sound crazy, but I feel like that sometimes. I have so many emotions. Some days I am so angry, angry at the whole world, angry at everyone who is walking around enjoying life, making plans for the future. I start to think, wow, my son is not enjoying life or making plans; instead, his life was snatched away from him and now he is in the cold ground all alone. Some days I try to pretend that this was all a nightmare and it never happened. I tell myself he is away on a vacation or in school, but it does not work. Every time I go to his grave site, I can hardly catch my breath.
Some days I am angry at my son for leaving me. I get angry at him and I ask him why he let go and stopped fighting. I get angry at him for not listening to me when I begged him not to ride his friend’s motorcycle. I think about how he fell off the bike a week prior to his demise and he tried to hide his scrapes and bruises from me. I ask him over and over again why he didn’t listen to me and everyone else.
Most days I am angry at myself, no matter how irrational it may sound to others. I’m angry at myself for not giving him his twenty-first birthday party that he asked me for (he will be twenty-two on February 19, 2010). All I did was take him out to dinner with a few of his friends; he passed away eight months after that. (He left me on October 16, 2009.) I blame myself for not taking away the keys. He asked me if could he hold my car and I told him no! How could I be so stupid! I think about all the arguments we had in the past; they all seem so petty now. I think about all the times I tried to show him tough love. I think about how he was so hopeless when he was in ICU and I couldn’t do anything to make him better. Sometimes I feel like I killed him when I agreed to have his life support terminated. I feel like he is angry at me for doing that; I thought it would be God’s will for him to recover and have another chance if he was disconnected because my faith needed to be stronger than those machines and medications. He looked so distressed, so I thought I was giving him peace.
Sometimes I feel like he is mad at me for not giving him more time. Ever since my son left me, I am afraid to pray. My faith has been weakened. I begged god to have mercy on him, but he left me anyway. I feel like whatever I pray for, the opposite will happen. I feel like I am being punished. There is constant aching in my stomach and my heart; there is a lump in my throat that won’t go away. I can’t find any comfort. I have other children, but other children can’t fill the void of losing one.
I feel like I cannot speak of him in the past tense because that would be accepting what happened and I don’t! Every young man I see that is close to my son’s age or his build and height, I imagine that they are him. I find myself staring intensely and I have to talk myself out of going up to them to give them a hug.
I can’t sleep at night. I keep hearing my son crying for me and he says, “Mom, look at what he did to your son!” I hear him over and over again. I worry that he is afraid and angry. It would help me so much if he could only let me know that he has peace. It would also help me if the officer that is responsible would be held accountable, if only he would admit that he made a mistake and used poor judgment. He took a mother’s child away and has ruined my once-happy life. He didn’t even call 911 for my son; a stranger did.
Thanks again for all that are listening. My heart is exploding with pain as I write this.