The Question, “How are you?”
People ask me every day how I am, out of genuine concern. I didn't know what to say, writing has always been my muse and form of communication. For those close to me, I've tried to sum it up the best way I can. Hopefully this helps my people understand what I can't verbally say. I can't answer anymore. This is it:
Losing my only child, my 18-year-old baby boy, the love of my life, was a devastating blow that shattered my heart and soul. The sensation is beyond description, as it encompasses both the physical and spiritual realms, intertwining grief with a pain so profound it feels as if a piece of my very being has been ripped away.
Physically, it feels like an unyielding weight, a heaviness that settles deep within my chest, constricting my lungs and making it difficult to breathe. My body aches, as if EVERY muscle and bone carries the burden of the sorrow I bear. Fatigue consumes me, yet sleep evades me, leaving me restless and mentally exhausted.
Spiritually, I am adrift in a sea of emotions, tossed about by waves of anguish, ANGER, and confusion by his death and how he was treated after his passing. There is an emptiness within, a void that nothing can fill. It feels like a connection to a part of my soul has been severed, leaving me fragmented and searching for meaning at the tragedy of his light being blown away.
Every day becomes a battle, a struggle to find purpose and hope amidst the overwhelming darkness. Life loses its luster, and joy seems like a distant memory, overshadowed by the haunting absence of my child. It's as if a piece of the world's colors has faded, and I am left in a gray, desolate landscape.
Attempting to convey this insurmountable loss to others is a daunting task. Words fall short, as the depths of grief are too vast to be contained within language alone. There are moments when I feel isolated, as those who haven't experienced such a profound loss may struggle to comprehend the magnitude of the pain that consumes me.
Yet, in my vulnerability, I find strength in sharing my son's spirit, in attempting to convey the essence of this loss, and in the hope that others will extend empathy and understanding. My child's memory becomes a beacon, a guiding light that reminds me of the love we shared and the bond we'll always hold, even in Damon's absence.
Grief becomes a journey, a path that I must navigate, step by agonizing step. It reshapes me, leaving scars that run deep but also teaching me to cherish every precious moment and to find solace in memories that will forever dwell in my heart. Though the pain never fully subsides, it becomes a part of who I now am, a testament to the enduring love between a mother and her son.
Much love to you all and those who loved Damon.