Today’s Thoughts
Grief wraps around me like a heavy fog, making every day feel haunting. Sleep becomes a brief escape, a break from the harsh reality. As a parent, my main job was to protect my kids, guide them into adulthood, and watch them grow. Now, it feels like I failed at that.
I should’ve been there. I should’ve told him that the roads would be slippery. I should’ve told him to be extra cautious that day. I didn’t though. I hadn’t driven on the roads yet; I didn’t know that they would be full of black ice. I should’ve known; or I fight with the thought should I have even let him get his driver's license? You’re grappling with all these emotions and feelings. As their parent, you feel like it is your duty to protect them. Yet I didn’t. I couldn’t save his life. I couldn’t read the medical notes and comprehend them like a surgeon. I couldn’t bring him back to life. I couldn’t prevent the accident. I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t protect him. Never in a moment have I felt more helpless.
I only go out when I have to. Such as dropping off his brother at school or going to a doctor's appointment. I haven’t left or driven aside from that. Today, I had to drive for an hour and a half to fix a mold of his hand I had made. The entire time, all I could think about was what I could've done differently. I drove past many of the roads that we would take to go to his school. Debating on whether I should go to the crash site, which I have yet to do. The "whys" keep coming – why him, why couldn’t things have gone differently? Why does anyone think that I’m strong enough to even go through this? Why does my life have to be altered while everyone else gets to go on?
Grief hits like a storm, with guilt, panic, and anxiety crashing in at once. It's like you should've been able to change something, prevent it. You feel like if you had been there, you could’ve changed it. I’m sure this is something that every parent who has lost a child feels. How can it not constantly run through your mind that you could’ve changed something? I don’t know that we would be human or parents if that that didn’t run through our mind. You feel responsible. Like you should have done something to change it or prevent it. The pain is indescribable, and it makes me wonder how anyone stops grieving for a child.
We lost a family member due to a motorcycle accident. We always told the kids that they weren’t allowed to have a motorcycle because of it. We sold our motorcycles after the accident. Even though Tom loved riding, it was a “never again” thing in our life. Unlike motorcycles, you need a vehicle to get everywhere. I can’t just never get in a vehicle again. I can’t prevent Samson‘s little brother from getting a driver's license and him driving. I can’t go without ever seeing another car again. I must continually be reminded day after day how Samson passed away.
All I thought about for that hour and a half is if Samson felt pain. If he knew what was happening in the moment of the accident. Angry that I never got to see him conscious again. Angry that I don’t have him here anymore. Angry that there are vile, evil people still alive, but my son is gone. Angry about everything. Angry about the loss. Angry that Gabriel doesn’t have his brother anymore. Angry that now I only have one living son. I won’t get to see Samson graduate. Angry that I won’t get to see him get married. Angry that I won’t get to know what he grows up to be. Angry at the world. Yet mixed inside all that anger is just sadness and pain. It’s heartache. It’s a kind of pain that is unimaginable until you’re in the midst and depths of it.
Surprisingly, guilt creeps in for things you wouldn't expect. Feeling guilty if my son isn't on my mind all the time, guilty for smiling, guilty for not wanting to leave the house. Guilty for shutting down, and not seeing people, not living like Samson. It's a constant battle against guilt for doing anything that feels remotely normal. You’re not told anywhere how to handle the loss of a child. This isn’t something you can be taught. Every day feels like I’m surfacing for air under the new wave crashing down. I hope that if any other parent reading this is going through these emotions, you can feel like you’re not alone. You’re not. The worst club you were ever forced to be in.
