We’re coming up to three years and I’m facing the anniversary with trepidation again, but less so than before. I remember how in those first horrific days I wanted only to be with Malcolm; I agonised over the thought that he was alone and afraid. As weeks and months passed I felt guilty for abandoning him, for not dying too. As months passed into a year I fantasized about creating a near death experience so I could see him and hug him once more and make sure he was alright; but I didn’t want to die, I would make sure to be resuscitated so that I wouldn’t cause my family any more pain. Now, at three years, even that fantasy seems empty, ridiculous even. Now I wear his jacket to Mardi Gras parades, I read his Facebook page where friends and family still post messages, I look at photos, and sometimes, like today, I help his dad tend to his grave. A parent’s nightmare — having to tend their child’s grave. But that is the last thing we can do for him now, one last act of love.
- “It’s Just Not Fair” now on Amazon ebooks
- “Traces of Hope: Surviving grief and loss.” Available on Amazon.com
- About the Author
- Other Writings
- Suicide – The Most Misunderstood of All Deaths
- The day…
- What Kind of God?
- Why Do We Suffer?