For Parents and Families Attempting to Survive After The Tragedy of Their Child, Grandchild, Sibling or Friend's Suicide
It has been 179 days since the Brooklyn Park Police called, while on a business trip in Vegas, to tell me that my son was dead. A single bullet to the temple and my baby boy was gone. From that moment, all semblance to the life I had known, ceases to exist.
It was as though a serrated knife had been impaled into my heart, imprisoning me into a state known as "Dead Man Walking."
Someone recently explained my grief as, "The amount of pain this grief has brought you, is equal to the amount of love your heart holds for your son." Wow, no wonder it is so disabling.
I am thankful for a site like this, as I am alone in my struggle for sanity and some kind of peace. Divorced and my only daughter living across the country, I truly do not know where to turn. The only thing I know for certain is that I can no longer feel the powerful embrace of his big hugs, nor his gentle kisses, nor will I ever hear his sweet, last words to me, "I love you Mommy" for my baby boy is gone.
