My older son Shawn should have turned 40 three days ago. But, he died in1992 aged 18. Even my therapist who I still see sometimes said something about his death not yet being fully resolved. Fully? Are you kidding me? It is not resolved at all! If I let myself think about it, I can instantly be back at that worst moment of my life, when I heard he was dead. Unless I am constantly on guard that moment is still right now. Right now I can be there, with the policeman at the door, so uncomfortable, and me yelling”get out of my house” as if their going might somehow make it less true. The haunting cruel words the cop spoke which I will not tell you since I do not want them to haunt anyone else.
You would not know this to look at me or even to know me. I am one of those people who seem to have it together. Who have grown from this experience and become stronger. And this is true in part. But it has come at such a price. It is four AM. I wish I could sleep.