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Where Did All the Support Go?

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It’s been just a little over five months since my twenty-one-year-old son passed away from his motorcycle accident/murder. When my son was fighting to survive his injuries during the week that he was in ICU, my family and friends, including my co-workers, were extremely supportive. There was a constant stream of people at my son’s bedside. The same amount of support was shown at my son’s services for his funeral but after that, it has just about stopped! It feels like so many are avoiding me and its funny how the few that I do speak to sometimes, either avoid mentioning my son or when they ask me how I am feeling and I respond “not well,” they will still ask me what’s wrong, what happened!

I know that most people mean well but sometimes you should think before you speak, because even though they might not intentionally trying to hurt me, it hurts a lot. I’m thinking, “Weren’t they at the hospital when my son was there, weren’t they at my son’s funeral?” It is really hard if not impossible for someone to understand the loss of your child, unless they suffered the same loss. I will admit that sometimes I don’t feel like talking to friends and family, so I don’t answer their calls. Some days are worse than others and I feel like if I talk on the phone, they will ask me something that’s going to upset me and I can not respond the way I really want to because then I worry about hurting their feelings because I don’t know if they want an honest answer.

Sometimes I want to say, “Well, now that you are asking, I hyperventilated today when I visited my son’s gravesite; I stayed up until 4 a.m. because I keep thinking about how my son suffered and how I hear him crying and saying look at what has happened to him; maybe I didn’t answer the phone because I was just screaming and crying while looking at pictures of my son; maybe I didn’t answer because I was just holding and smelling the pieces of my son’s hair I cut when he was pronounced brain dead! Maybe I was wearing his work gloves and smelling those also! Maybe I’m remembering how my son felt when I touched him and kissed him in his coffin! Maybe I’m thinking about the person that did this to my son and how he has no clue what he has done! Maybe I was just looking at a video of my son and that is my only way to see him moving and talking, laughing … and I imagine that he still has life but the horror slaps me in my face. Maybe I just want quiet, maybe I don’t have anything to say.”

I wish that people wouldn’t take it personal when I do not call them back right away; it has absolutely nothing to do with them.

It would be nice to get the same support that I did before my son’s funeral. If I don’t answer, leave me a message, send me a text, keep calling me back, offer to take me out to dinner or lunch, I might actually accept the invite, offer to take my little one out because sometimes I do not feel like being a “Mommy.” Please keep telling me that you are sorry for my pain from my loss, try to remember my son’s birthday and if you don’t remember, ask me and put it on your calendar or in your phone because it means a lot to me. If we do talk, allow me to talk about my son for as long as I want. Please don’t tell me to stop crying and that I need therapy. I am grieving and I want my son back and I want him to have one more chance. That’s the miracle I want from God! It might sound crazy to some but I would imagine that most parents would want a second chance for their child. What parent on this Earth wants to bury their child? Everyone one grieves in their own way, so please don’t tell me I’m doing it “wrong”! Thanks for reading.

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