The pain for each has manifested itself in a million different ways–measuring at various peaks each step, and every day. The one true thing that always seems to remain: We hurt.
For all those glorious moments we shared, and for those we no longer can enjoy–even for those now seemingly “not so bad times,” from your past, when you were just a boy–if only we would be allowed to on that day revert, we could perhaps take hold to eradicate
For all those future-tense laughs and jokes, and the serious life talks too, these all are things we sorely will miss each time we think of you. With nothing else to say, there is no dirt to pay—just this simple family truth, “Oh, boy”, do we hurt for you.
We hurt, we cry, and then we wonder why—a cycle which continues until our thoughts are completely confused. Then the various levels of anger set in as we consider just how much here on earth, you were mis-used.
Eventually, though our mode shifts to “normal” as if all is well. We deny the basic facts. But, this story just won’t sell. For me, it probably will be a lifetime or more. But, nothing ever shall be the same–not even the light of a new day’s sunshine, or the moisture of the fresh pouring rain.
When they chose to take your life, it was as if they had used a knife—as a chunk of me was cut and has left here too. That missing piece is what gave me purpose and walked me through—that’s how I knew how to do all those things that together we passed through.
As your mother, my grief may be somewhat different than that of all the others. But, in looking at the overall situation, there is yet one thing to say, the plain and simple reality might seem to some like brutality. But son, I hope you know—for you, we hurt.