
There are days I feel empty.
When nothing fills the hollow,
Erases the longing,
Or soothes the dull ache.
It doesn’t last as long.
Or feel as acute as it did.
But it still hurts.
Feels very surreal.
It hangs on my heart like a weight.
Before it melts away.
It’s grief reminding me,
I still love my child,
Who died by suicide.
Yep surreal. 21 months now into this journey. Second birthday coming July 6. The tears don’t make it up to the eyes as much as they used to. At 20 months I noticed that. But I still wake up every morning and fight off the movie reel that plays his life from early childhood innocence up to envisioning my 21 year old boy hanging from his bedroom closet door in LA 2,000 away from me in South Carolina. But it’s never been about me. It’s the empathy and chronic sadness that I feel for what he must have been going through.
You and I have talked about how close together our death anniversaries are. That haunts me, too. All that pain and sadness he carried and didn’t share with me.
I don’t know this feeling myself, but my heart grieves for you and the other families who know this all too well… Much love to you, Anne Moss. ❤️
I think I’m not taking to my oldest and now my only moving to LA. It’s hit me all of a sudden.