Gabi

Thanks, Mary. I appreciate your kind words.

Marty, thank you for your response. I found that just writing the words helped because people around me, even though compassionate, seem to have this idea that "time heals" and you should "get better" every day. It's ridiculous to the point where I don't want to answer the question, "How are you doing?" because I don't want to hear the platitudes and cliches in response that make you feel like you're not "getting on with life" like they (who haven't a clue) think you should be. So I've been holding it in, even though I know better and speaking the words (or typing them) helped disperse that energy a bit. Am facing a hard task tomorrow of going through my son's belongings--taking back the paintings I had painted for him--the books we shared--the gifts exchanged--it's something I dread but must do. I have no expectations about any of it. Thank you for your kind note and the resources you pointed me to. The parents of murdered children site helped -- I was able to distinguish the anxiety I had been feeling because it wasn't an accident or illness (that my mind could comprehend)that took my son -- it was a senseless act of utter violence unrelated to any "cause". It helped just to distinguish that the anger I was feeling was connected to the violence and to my mind not being able to find a "reason" or anything that could rationalize what happened.

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.