Not only do I mourn for my son, but I also mourn for what I have become, a mother without a son. I mourn every time I see mothers and sons. I mourn when I see fathers and sons. I mourn when I see brothers and sisters. I mourn when I see nephews and nieces. I mourn that my grandson lost a most loving uncle. I mourn when I see young men that are full of life and strength. I mourn whenever I am around young people who seem to be celebrating a happy occasion. I mourn when I go to weddings or funerals. I mourn when holidays come and go. I mourn when a baby is born. I mourn when I see beautiful things such as a flower or the sunset and the sunrise. I mourn when I hear a bird sing. I mourn when I look at the sky. I mourn when the seasons change. I need as much time as possible to mourn, to reflect and to try to heal. Facing the unknown, crying in the car, following my heart is routine. I realize that sorrow walks beside me wherever I go and whatever I do. I doubt if I will ever be whole again.
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