I lost my youngest (of two sons) in December. He was 27 and was shot to death in the parking lot after withdrawing $40 from an ATM machine. This occurred two weeks after my oldest son turned 30. They were two years apart and started a company together, hung out together and were best friends. A sixteen year old boy shot my son--it was his 3rd felony. It makes me sick to see this boy's face recurring in my thoughts from the news article. A child. I keep hearing an elongated silence, then, "Jamie's dead, Mom," in my eldest son's voice. Time is not helping. I am feeling a deep, heavy sadness that just won't let up. Before the past two weeks I had a "good" day sometimes. Now there's none. I'm physically sick, in danger of losing the job I started two weeks before my son's death and just wonder why the heck I am still here, what my life is supposed to be about. Sunday my son and I are scheduled to go through Jamie's belongings and take them with us from the house where he lived with a roommate. I move from feeling lost, depressed and angry to sad. When I had my children, they opened me up to a love and joy that was greater than anything I knew was possible and now I have the opposite-a deep and fathomless sadness.