One year ago my younger son, Danny, and Matt’s brother was taken from us by a drug driver.
I feel as if I’ve conducted myself with as much strength as I am capable of. Matt and I both felt we were allowed to do whatever we needed to get through (is that even possible?).
I’ve read a lot of books dealing with this loss, I’m a nurse so I’ve seen it first hand in other people, I’ve tried really hard to control how I react. I’ve had to deal with all the legal stuff by myself, because both Danny’s father and Matt didn’t want to. It’s understandable, but I gave birth to him, I raised him, I’ve loved him with every atom of my being from the moment he’s popped into the world. I’m the ONLY ONE who can claim that.
Yet, so much has been expected of me.
Finally, one year on, I admit I can’t do it. I’m adrift. I’m alone. I regret so much. I’ve tried so hard.
I have to find a new focus. Start over.
I wish I could swap places with Danny. He had so much to offer. I loved him so much.