Every day I live, I am one day closer to my death. This brings me a bit of comfort. I may have about another 50 years in me left, as I’m now 30 and in decent enough physical health. Fifty years is such a long time to wait to die. The only reason I am waiting and not increasing the rapidity of my ever-approaching death myself is the fact that no one truly knows what happens when we die.
“For in that sleep of death what dreams may come
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause. There’s the respect
That makes calamity of so long life.”
Hamlet had it right. The only reason I have not killed myself is because I can not risk the chance of being punished for doing so by not being with my son.
My little boy was just over ten months old. Just starting to really develop his own personality, just starting to learn how to walk and talk and play games. Just beginning to understand the world a little bit and interact with it and the people around him. He said “mommy” twice. I can’t even recreate the sound of it in my head and that kills me. I can’t even begin to write about the things I miss about him right now. There are so many. The list is endless. But what I wouldn’t give just to hold him one more time. I am feeling all of this pain and continuing my life just for the chance to have him in my arms again after I die. The wait is agonizing. But I have another little one on the way. I found out less than a month after Daxon was gone. I have to survive for this child now, which I suppose makes it easier to evade the relentless thoughts of suicide. The only reason I want to die is to be with my son. I have never known a longing like this and I pray I will never have to again. If that should happen, I pray I get hit by a semi and thrown under every set of tires as it rolls over my body, crushing the life out of me in a moment and sending my soul to be with my baby boy.
I will never stop mourning him. I will never get through this. Losing a child is nothing something someone gets through. There is no end to the sadness. There is not a time when he is not missed or not wanted. There is survival. I have been told and have read that it is possible to be happy again. To find purpose in life, enjoy my time here. I don’t know when that happens. I can’t imagine being genuinely happy without my beautiful little man in my arms. For now, I will survive each day to bring me closer to him in death.