Status: i cry all the time
Life After
it is
It is a desperation; a clawing, gut wrenching, breath taking pain that eats and eats and eats until there is nothing else left. It is a gaping hole that swallows me whole, over and over again, stripping me to the bone. It is a stomach churning, throat clenching mass of everything that is bad in the world put together, washing over me, seeping into me, claiming me.
It is the shadow that linger beyond my memories of his smile, the shade that surrounds his playful laugh. It is the reality that's encompassed all that I have of him, fate taking a promised life far too soon. It is his father, sitting beside me, tears streaming down his face. It is his grandmother, sobbing beside his bed, his doctor, struggling not to cry. It is his younger sister, trying to understand, his cousin, clutching his hand. It is my brother, trying to comfort me, and my best friend, not knowing what to say.
It is the silence that permeates the room, the fragments of my life crumbling all around me. It is the words that cling to my lips, refusing to fill the air with sound. It is the lessening warmth of his skin, precious against mine.
It is the first day of school that I will never see, the fishing trips that he will never have. It is the train set that lies unopened on our kitchen table, a Christmas present that he will never unwrap. It is the hooded jacket that I had bought too soon, lying against the sofa back home. It is shoes that he won't grow into, the teenage years that we will never share.
It is the pain etched across his face, echoing into my being. It is the way he holds my hand tight, eyes wide with a silent plea that I can do nothing about. It is the helplessness, the overwhelming injustice, the hate, the anger, the pain, the horror.
It is my son, on the hospital bed, breathing his last. It is my heart, shattering inside my chest. It is his little fist, unclenching in my hand. It is now, before, and after. It is him, never again. It is me, forever and for always.
It is the shadow that linger beyond my memories of his smile, the shade that surrounds his playful laugh. It is the reality that's encompassed all that I have of him, fate taking a promised life far too soon. It is his father, sitting beside me, tears streaming down his face. It is his grandmother, sobbing beside his bed, his doctor, struggling not to cry. It is his younger sister, trying to understand, his cousin, clutching his hand. It is my brother, trying to comfort me, and my best friend, not knowing what to say.
It is the silence that permeates the room, the fragments of my life crumbling all around me. It is the words that cling to my lips, refusing to fill the air with sound. It is the lessening warmth of his skin, precious against mine.
It is the first day of school that I will never see, the fishing trips that he will never have. It is the train set that lies unopened on our kitchen table, a Christmas present that he will never unwrap. It is the hooded jacket that I had bought too soon, lying against the sofa back home. It is shoes that he won't grow into, the teenage years that we will never share.
It is the pain etched across his face, echoing into my being. It is the way he holds my hand tight, eyes wide with a silent plea that I can do nothing about. It is the helplessness, the overwhelming injustice, the hate, the anger, the pain, the horror.
It is my son, on the hospital bed, breathing his last. It is my heart, shattering inside my chest. It is his little fist, unclenching in my hand. It is now, before, and after. It is him, never again. It is me, forever and for always.